BITE:me
by K-Jellybean
Summary: This is the story of a boy who had to die to find his true love and a man who had to lose everything he wanted to find what he needed.
1. The Other Prophecy

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily as he sat in his office. Two prophecies and one new Divination professor. Sibyl had foretold stunning events tonight and Albus was sure it had something to do with one of two boys, both born around the same time: Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. It all depended on Tom Riddle. Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth and rubbed his temples. Fawkes cooed sympathetically and he gave the bird a weak smile. The poor boys, to have their fate decided as mere children. And yet those were small potatoes in comparison to the second prophecy he had stumbled across that night. He sought the memory in his mind so that he could withdraw it and place it in his pensieve.

...

_"Sybil? Are you alright?" Albus figured that Trewlawney had come out of her trance when her eyes took on a different sort of far away look to them. But alas, her voice came again. But this time, it was not the throaty rasp of before. This was a guttural, deep voice that didn't even sound like it could come out of Sibyl Trewlawney's mouth._

_**"The light has changed,  
the day is gone,  
behind the brightness of the moon  
hides the blackness of the night.  
He waits for the day he will arise,  
the one with the power  
to aid, to help,  
the second,  
the partner,  
he who will know the  
demons of the soul,  
but will conquer with the  
dragon of the heart.  
It is the dragon who will come  
he will lift up the one with the power  
and he will make it possible  
for the balance to be returned,  
and for the sun to shine once more."**_

_Sybil coughed, she hacked, she spluttered and reached for her water, gulping it down. "I'm sorry, Albus," I must have inhaled some sort of bug. Now what were you saying?"_

The white haired wizard quickly veiled his shock and smiled brightly at the eccentric woman. "I believe that will be enough, Sibyl, my dear."

Sibyl's eyes widened in fear. "Such a short interview..." She murmured somberly.

"I assure you, that was all I needed to be sure of your qualifications. I would be honored if you would join us at Hogwarts this year." said Albus.

Sibyl's eyes grew to saucers and rimmed with tears. "Oh, truly? Yes, of course, Albus, of course!" she exclaimed.

"Lovely, my dear. Now, would you like a lemon drop?"

Albus grabbed the memory, dragging it out with the tip of his wand and casting the silvery wisp into the pensieve. His troubling thoughts of, 'Who is the dragon?' and 'Which boy will be chosen?' were banished, giving him the opportunity for some true relaxation.

It didn't last.

It wasn't long before Lord Voldemort marked one of the boys as his equal. It was the Potter boy. Harry Potter. Albus should have expected the boy's parents to die for him. It was still so tragic. To have been betrayed by their best friend... James and Lily Potter were too young to die. But they did.

Albus gave the boy to his aunt and uncle. As far as he knew, it was the only relation the boy had. Poor boy... He should be growing up in a wizarding home. Still, at least he was alive. And Lord Voldemort was dead...But then, what was the second prophecy? Who was the dragon? And who would he aid? And for what?

Too many questions and no definite answers. The headmaster would just have to wait for his answers.

Nearly eleven years later, one answer came. The problem: Lord Voldemort had returned. Potter was more powerful than Albus had anticipated and there was a ton of old magic that was left on him from Lily and James' love.

Still, the DADA position was open again and Albus had to interview someone else for it. Gilderoy Lockhart was a last minute decision, a rather rash and careless decision, but he filled the position and most of the mothers seemed pleased enough. Alas, he would bring another answer to Albus at the end of that year: Tom Riddle's diary. Albus knew the secret of it and that there were more. The Horcruxes would have to be destroyed. He hoped, however, that Harry would never have to know about it and that, in time, Albus would be able to track down any other Horcruxes and destroy them.

Harry's third year brought more answers and even more questions. Apparently, Sirius Black, who Albus had known was Harry's godfather, was innocent. But how would the Order of the Phoenix prove that? And Scabbers was actually Peter Pettigrew, the guilty one. But how much did he know about Lord Voldemort? And would they ever be able to capture him?

Harry wanted to live with Sirius, but knew that he couldn't... would he ever be able to? How long would this war take? And the ever looming question, who was the Dragon? And how did all this affect him? Albus was left wondering anxiously what Harry's fourth year would entail.

*~*~*~*~FOURTH YEAR~*~*~*~*~*

Harry sighed with content as he felt Cedric's lips along the flesh of his throat. "Mmm, thanks for meeting me on such short notice," The raven haired boy murmured huskily.

"It's no problem. You must be really stressed." Cedric replied, slipping his body between Harry's legs. They were nestled together in the steaming water of the prefect's bathroom's tub enjoying the Saturday afternoon in peace.

"Yeah... I have no idea who put my name in that goblet." Harry said. "But whoever it is definitely wants me dead... maybe they'll get their wish." Harry admitted his fear.

"Harry, don't talk that way, please..." Cedric asked, kissing the boy's face. "I know you're younger than me on the outside, but you've had to go through so much already. It's like you're older than me... And you're so strong, Harry. You can do this, I know you can."

Harry looked deep into Cedric's eyes and smiled weakly. He leaned his head in and kissed his lips tenderly. "Thank you, love."

Cedric grinned at him the way that Harry loved. "Anytime."

...

"Cedric, NO!" Harry ran over to the boy, tangled in the vines and rescued him. Together they ran for the cup, together they grasped it in their hands and together they were whisked away to a place Harry would never forget.

They landed in the graveyard. Cedric marveled at the glowing cup in awe. "It's a Portkey.." he said in wonder.

"I've been here before, Cedric, I know this place." Harry said. He looked around, his dreams came back to him and suddenly fear glazed his eyes. His eyes darted back to his sandy haired lover.

"Cedric, we have to get back to the cup!" he cried. But it didn't happen.

He was captured. Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed him and his parents took his blood and raised the Dark Lord. And his love, Cedric Diggory was killed. Harry stood and watched as the light left Cedric's beautiful eyes with one flash of green. Lord Voldemort beckoned him that night, and it was then that Harry was no longer afraid to die. He stepped out from behind his father's tomb and faced the serpentine figure of evil. Priori Incantatem occurred that night and life was never the same again.

Harry portkeyed himself and Cedric back to Hogwarts, sobbing. His trusted DADA professor turned out to be a fraud, an impersonator, and a Death Eater at that. He had been betrayed and Harry, now alone and irreparably damaged, began to wither away.

He no longer loved. He took his physical pleasures without emotion, he stopped caring about his schoolwork and just focused on surviving. Slowly he started to turn. Lord Voldemort began to make his presence known more often. Harry felt connected to him. As though they were both a part of each other. Harry began to fear becoming dark. And the more he feared it, the closer it seemed to become reality.

At the end of his fifth year, Harry Potter lost his godfather. Sirius Black was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. It was then that Harry first used an Unforgivable Curse. Harry heard his prophecy for the first time. And Albus Dumbledore was once again plagued with the knowledge that Harry could not be helped by anyone but the Dragon... but who knew who the Dragon was? The clock seemed to be ticking louder and louder for Harry. He would have to face Voldemort and in his current state, there wasn't much of a fight in him. Not much left to fight for. His love had been taken from him, his parents killed, his newfound father figure and best friend had been murdered, his friends were afraid of him, no matter where he went he could not escape the pity in everyone's eyes. Dumbledore feared that at the final battle, Harry would not even be able to stand and fight. But the truth remained, no matter how much pain Harry felt, that he was their last hope.


	2. Over the Summer

**Draco's Summer**

As the summer passed and the Daily Prophet printed nothing about Narcissa's fashion tips, or Lucius' exploits, and the head Malfoy was, for the most part, absent from the Ministry of Magic on a daily basis, one had to wonder as to just what was happening at Malfoy Manor that summer...

Narcissa paced the floor of her bedroom and began to do something she had not done since she was four. She bit her nails. It was a habit she'd had cursed out of her quickly, but now was a time that she just didn't know what else to do. Lucius was going to murder her.

A scream pierced her thoughts and she apparated into Draco's bedroom. The blond writhed on the bed, his body turning and twisting at odd angles as screams of agony were ripped from his throat. Narcissa hurried to his bedside.

Fighting her way past his thrashing arms, she pressed a cool cloth to his forehead. He whimpered under her touch.

"Make it stop," he begged breathlessly, his voice nearly inaudible. "Please, Mother, make it stop."

Tears of pain leaked from his slate grey eyes. Narcissa wrung her hands with worry. Lucius was going to kill her! She uncorked a calming draught and tried to give it to her son.

Draco managed to drink half of the potion before his body erupted in seizures. His eyes rolled back in his head as his body convulsed on the bed. Narcissa screamed. And then it stopped. Everything was still. Silence fell heavily in the room and Narcissa didn't dare move for fear that the slightest brush of her fingers would send her son back into agony.

She didn't have to move though. Precisely 30 seconds later, Draco's eyes sprung open, he leaned his head over the side of the bed and vomited onto the carpet. There went the calming draught.

Draco was sick five more times before he passed out. Narcissa cleaned up the mess with a flick of her wand. She snapped her fingers and a house elf came in to get rid of the smell and any lingering stains.

In the distance, one sound froze Narcissa in her steps. A cold sweat broke out along her brow and between her breasts as she heard the fire in the drawing room roar to life as Lucius flooed home.

Narcissa glanced back at Draco, lying deathly pale and still on the bedspread. Hoping to Merlin he would stay that way for just a little longer, she ran a hand through her hair, smoothed out her pale blue dress and went to go greet her husband.

"'Cissa!" Lucius greeted her, sweeping the blond woman into his arms and twirling her around. He placed a kiss on her lips before placing her back on her feet.

"Did you have a good day, darling?" Narcissa asked, hoping that her smile did not show her worry.

Lucius sighed. "Not particularly, but it's good just to be able to come home to you." The Slytherin man winked playfully. "I did manage to make a full grown man wet his pants today, though. That was rather fun. I must say, inspiring fear and respect wherever one goes is difficult work."

Narcissa nodded absentmindedly and wrung her hands nervously behind her back. "Darling.." she started hesitantly.

"Yes, love?" Lucius responded, closing his eyes and reclining in his favorite cushioned chair next to the fire.

"I have to tell you something... Something I should have told you long ago, but if i had told you, you might not- well you definitely would not have married me and-"

"'Cissa, what is it? What could make you doubt my love for you?" Lucius asked, concernedly.

Narcissa hesitated before taking a deep look into her husband's mercurial eyes and blurting out, "Our-son-is-going-to-become-a-vampire."

Lucius was silent for a moment. He stared at Narcissa blankly before his mouth finally opened. Narcissa flinched as she feared the worst, but was shocked to hear laughter come from the blond man.

"That's impossible, love. You were never one to joke, what's the occasion?" Lucius raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Narcissa's jaw fell open with shock for just a second before she regained her composure. "No, Lucius, I wasn't joking. This is all my fault, but our son after tonight will be a new vampire."

Lucius' eyes seem to spark with electricity. "How?"

"I have the gene in me, but I knew you wouldn't marry me if you knew. I hoped that the gene was so insignificant in me that it wouldn't affect our children. But Draco got it. And as you know the vampire gene in males is dominant over everything." Narcissa paused. Lucius' expression had gone completely blank. "I will remove my things from your room-I-I understand if you cannot acknowledge me as your wife anymore." Narcissa turned to leave, but a strong, cool hand caught her arm.

"Narcissa, we will take care of this new... complication. And then we will tell no one. No one will hear of this, not even the Dark Lord. Do I make myself clear?"

Narcissa nodded in shock. "Lucius... You.. you still..."

"Desire you? Love you? Acknowledge you as the only woman I ever want to call my wife?... yes." Lucius said, his voice showing some of the emotion he truly felt. "You and I were meant to be together, Narcissa. That is why you must never tell anyone you carry the vampire gene. If it does get out and we absolutely must tell the Dark Lord, then Draco was attacked by one of those new hybrids, and that's all there is to it." Lucius said forcefully. Narcissa nodded in acceptance.

There was a moment of silence where neither party knew what to do. And then Draco woke up. The young Malfoy's screams pierced the heavy silence of the Manor and Lucius' eyes locked with Narcissa's before they both apparated into their son's room.

Draco was writhing on the bed in agony, sweat running down his body. His eyes were closed tight against the pain, failing to block it out. Narcissa rushed to his side. His eyes opened and locked on hers.

"Mother," his voice cracked. "It's worse, it's getting worse, I can't take it..." Tears leaked from his eyes as his back arched in pain and another cry of anguish was torn from his throat.

"What is it like, where does it hurt?" Lucius asked calmly.

"It's... ungh, like needles stabbing... AHH, underneath my skin...everywhere." Draco whimpered.

"It'll all be over soon, Draco, I promise." Narcissa assured him, though she knew the worst had yet to come. She exchanged worried glances with her husband before turning her attention back to Draco. Suddenly, the blond sat up in bed and began thrashing his arms behind him, trying to reach his back. He clawed his nails against the skin of his back leaving red tracks of blood behind.

"Narcissa, what is going on!" Lucius shouted over Draco's screams.

"He is getting his wings, Lucius, this is the worst part. Look at the time, it is almost over." Narcissa informed him.

As she said so, the tips of shimmering white scaled wings began to force their way through the muscle and sinew of Draco's back. The elder Malfoy cringed as he heard the ripping of his son's flesh. Streams of blood trickled down from Draco's new wounds as his wings emerged completely. They spread out to the side, barely missing Narcissa's head. Draco's blood dripped from the snow colored scales as the young Slytherin cried and whimpered in pain.

A last shot of pain ran through him, going straight to his heart. With one final terrifying shriek, more awful and heartbreaking than the last, Draco Malfoy died.


	3. Return to Hogwarts

If one were seen on platform 9 3/4 that year, and one happened to walk past Harry Potter that year, the only way you would have been able to recognize the young man would be by his infamous scar, which was visible below his fauxhawked hair. The numerous piercings on his ears and the offset one on his lower lip glinted in the light, contrasting against the dark crimson shirt he wore, which might as well not have been a shirt at all. It covered him all right, but was so tight fitting that every muscle was outlined in the sheer fabric. His black pants bagged low around his hips and bunched up before being tucked loosely into tightly laced up combat boots that clunked powerfully with every step he took. His trench coat billowed out around him as he walked, with his broad shoulders casting shadows over cowering first years.

He saw a little girl, no more than six or seven, tremble and hide behind her mother when she saw him. He grinned at her and squatted down to her eye level. The mother cast worried eyes down at him. Harry looked deep into the little girl's eyes and she emerged from behind her mother. Disregarding the heeding words of her mother, the little girl reached a hand out and placed her tiny fingers on his scar.

"He's hurt, Mommy..." she said.

"Trelissa!" Her mother scolded.

"No, Mommy... he's hurt inside..." She clarified, as if that changed everything. Harry's smile faded a bit under the young one's scrutiny. Trelissa smiled however, and leaned in to him to whisper conspiratorially, "But don't worry, he's going to get better... I can feel it."

Harry stood up and smiled once more at the girl who stood back against her mother's coat again. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter," the mother apologized. Harry chuckled softly and gave her a sincere look. The kind of look he hadn't given anyone all summer.

"No, don't be sorry." Harry paused, trying to find the right words. The little girl had made him smile for the first time in a long time, if only for a little while. What could he say to that? Harry gave up searching for the right thing to say and only replied, "Thank you," in the most sincere way he could muster before shuffling off to the train.

Harry stared out the window at the platform and all the people. The families kissing their children goodbye, the crying mothers, the frightened first years, the excited returning students... They were all so happy, and they were all counting on him. Counting on him to defeat the Dark Lord that they all denied was back anyway. Was he to get any support? No, they all believed he killed Cedric... Couldn't have been more ironic, really. He watched the one person he opened himself up to enough to love die and they assume that he killed him. Go figure...

Harry felt like crying, but he had no more tears left. He opened the window and lit a fag, taking a long drag from it. Cedric... love... life... death... what was it all anymore? What did anything mean when you were just a weapon that could only be used once and for one purpose? Unable to find an answer all summer, Harry didn't try now. Instead, he finished his fag, and lay down on the bench, closing his eyes and blasting muggle music through his charmed player.

...

"So what's it like, Draco?" Blaise asked interestedly.

"What's what like?"

"Being a vampire!"

Draco sighed with boredom. "It's not like anything. It's like nothing." he said plaintively.

"Oh come on, don't be stingy. Tell me, what's it like drinking blood?"

"It's like eating is for you," Draco said, trying to keep his voice steady and his temper low as he got more and more fed up with Blaise.

"Can you fly yet?"

"You've seen my broom."

"No, I mean with your wings.. Can you fly with those?"

"A little."

"Is it fun?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's difficult."

"Why?"

"Because it is!"

"Come on, Draco, I'm just trying to figure out what it's like being a vampire!"

That was it, Draco lost his temper and swooped down over Blaise. His hands were positioned on either side of the Italian's head, his fangs bared and gleaming in the fluorescent light of the compartment.

"You really wanna know? I'll tell you." Draco snarled. "It's being dead, inside and out. And the only thing that lets you know you can still feel is the burning in your throat, the ever present lust for blood that keeps you alive. The urge to rip out the throat of every last mortal within a twenty mile radius that you have to fight constantly is always there. It's what tells you you're not a human anymore, but you're not dead either. You're just some in between freak."

Blaise quivered, frightened tears slipping from his eyes under Draco's intense presence. Draco pushed off the back of the seat, turning his back to Blaise and tried to regain his temper.

"I'm sorry.." the whisper was barely audible, but Draco's heightened senses heard it clear as day.

"So am I." Draco responded and left the compartment. Blaise wondered whether he was sorry for losing his temper or that now he wasn't the same Draco Malfoy he had always been.

Draco made his way to the last car on the train and let himself out into the crisp fall air. He stood on the small platform and rested his elbows on the rail. The wind blowing past whipped his cheeks, but he didn't feel it. He looked down at his hands, his long slender fingers covered in alabaster skin. Flawless, cold flesh, going all the way up his arms and continuing all over his body. That's how it always would be from then on.

When certain people get depressed, to the point where all feeling is moot and they are lost in a sea of despair... they start cutting. Whether it's to feel the rush, to feel alive, to bleed out the pain, or bleed out of themselves, they flock to their blades and sharp objects as if it's a morphine drip. Draco looked down at his forearms... not a scratch on them. Standing there, in the knowledge of what he was now, what he had left behind and all that lay before him, Draco wished more than anything that he could bleed out of himself.

Lost in the ocean of his thoughts, Draco didn't notice the door behind him opening, and a tall figure coming to stand next to him.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" the voice, low and sweet, cut through the darkness of Draco's thoughts and made him jump. He whirled around quickly, just a blur to the human eye and was met with the sight of the one and only Harry Potter.

"Potter?" Draco breathed in disbelief.

"It's funny how, no matter how badly you treat mother nature, it never thinks it's worthless.. it never hurts itself... it just keeps going, as if it's untouched." Harry said, as if he hadn't heard Draco.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco murmured, too rundown to be aggressive, too beaten to care.

"It's funny how things work out, isn't it?" Harry continued, seemingly ignoring Draco. "You start your life going one way, just walking down the road, thinking that everything is normal.. Little did you know that those few extra seconds you spent that morning doing something you don't normally do have slowed you down... You're not in the place you would've been anymore... and now, you're walking down the road a few seconds late, not as early as usual, not as early as you would have been when you would have missed getting struck by lightning."

Draco eyed Harry wearily as the dark man continued. "The night Voldemort came to my house, my parents had just got back from spending time at Lupin's house..."

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yeah... they called for a taxi, since they were living in a muggle village and didn't want Voldemort to find out where they were hiding. They wanted to protect me... Knowing that the taxi would take time for them to get home, they decided to leave Lupin's early." Harry paused again, Draco could see it was difficult for him to go on.

"Their taxi ride allowed them to get home 20 minutes early... If they had just decided to apparate, they would have arrived at the right time, they would have found something amiss around the house. My dad would have gone in and told Lily to wait.. He would have found Voldemort or the death eaters and yelled to Lily...yelled to my mom... If they had been their usual 20 minutes late that night, my mom could have apparated out of there. I could still have my parents if it weren't for them calling an early taxi." Harry's voice broke off.

Draco couldn't understand how Harry knew all this, or why he would share something like this with him.

"Funny how things work out..." Harry repeated.

"Why are you telling me this, Potter?" Draco muttered.

"I had one more smoke than usual this morning so now, I'm out. I stepped out for a bit of fresh air because my nicotine deprived self couldn't stand to be in that tiny cabin. If i hadn't used up that smoke this morning, i wouldn't have come out to this metal sort of balcony and then... I wouldn't have seen you."

Harry finally looked at Draco, staring into his eyes. "You and I were meant to be here, at the same time, right now.. right here."

"I don't understand your point, Potter." Draco said.

"It's not to understand. It's to accept. You think it's coincidence that two arch enemies found each other in the same spot at the same time? What ever it is... I can say now, I did something that i wouldn't normally have done. Which means now, my entire life has probably been changed.. And you're responsible." Harry gave Draco a funny smile, Draco was almost offended.

The blond Slytherin wanted to punch something, yell at him, tell him how wrong he was. Draco wasn't responsible for anything but himself... But before Draco could say that... Harry was gone.

hr

Draco sat at the welcoming feast, death glaring at Potter from across the room. Every other normal human in the room seemed to notice the anger and raw fury rolling off of him. The magic in the air snapped and crackled around him as Draco lost more and more of his control, becoming more and more focused on Potter. There was something about him, something different that Draco just couldn't seem to put his finger on. Draco eyed the Gryffindor carefully, taking note of how he didn't seem to eat. That was just too odd, especially for Potter. He seemed to be insatiable when it came to his meals, but there he sat plain as day, pushing his food around his plate, not actually eating at all. He kept intense conversation going, as if he were trying to make sure no one noticed that he hadn't even touched anything.

"Draco," Pansy murmured, placing a hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine," he replied offhandedly.

"Did you talk to Dumbledore about the whole… vampire thing?" she asked hesitantly, wondering if perhaps that was what had him so preoccupied.

"Are you insane?" Draco hissed, finally giving her his attention. "No one can know! If Dumbledore finds out before Voldemort it'll be the devil to pay. I don't even want the Dark Lord to find out. There's no telling what he would do to me. The only reason you and Blaise know is because I have to control my bloodlust, one donor isn't going to do it for me this early on."

Pansy nodded in acceptance at this. "When was the last time you fed?" she asked, sounding ridiculously like a mother hen. Draco almost smiled at it.

"I'm fine, Pansy."

"Come find me after dinner," she said insistently. Draco nodded absently and went back to his previous activity of Potter-watching. There was still something eerie about the entire situation. The meeting on the train, his strange words, his changed appearance… it was all just too different. There was something new about Potter and Draco had to find out what it was. Draco scowled intensely at the entire situation. No one fooled a Malfoy, no one. It simply wasn't done. It practically went against every scientific and magical law in the entire universe. It was just impossible. You didn't pull one over on any member of the Malfoy family, and yet there was Potter, doing just that. Suddenly furious at Potter's ability to trick him, Draco pushed away from the Slytherin table.

"I'm going out to fly for a bit," he winked at Pansy and swept off, robes billowing behind him–Snape would have been proud.

Pansy's eyes were not the only ones that followed the blond out of the Great Hall.

Draco stood in the middle of the quidditch pitch looking up at the black night sky illuminated by the numerous stars that shone down on him. They glinted upon his white flawless marble skin. Draco shed his robes and removed his white collared shirt, placing them on the ground in a heap that would have given his mother a cataract. He stretched languidly, pushing his arms up over his head and then out to his sides. As he rolled his shoulders and arched his back, he let his wings stretch out. He had become increasingly skilled at releasing and contracting them over the summer. When he wasn't using them or didn't want them to be seen, they magicked themselves into his skin, coming out to look like a tattoo to the mortal eye. Draco crouched low to the ground, gripping the cool, damp grass between his fingers and taking a deep breath-(which he lamented, there was really no need for). He felt a breeze below his wingtips and vaulted off the ground with force only a vampire could muster. He sprung into the sky and let his white body streak across the black sky among the stars.

From the shadows, someone watched this display of power. She eyed him with nothing short of awe as she saw him twist and turn his body gracefully through spins and flips high off the ground. She didn't know why she felt compelled to watch him now, or why she had followed him out to the quidditch pitch. She didn't know for sure why she suddenly felt so strangely about the one and only Draco Malfoy, but as she continued to spy on the flying creature, she began to get a pretty good idea.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, was flying. He was soaring through the skies without the aid of a broom or any other sort of magic. He was using those wings, those beautiful wings. The figure looked on in wonder at his new accessory. They stemmed from his back like a fountain, glistening white and pure. They extended at least six or seven feet from one end to the other, if not longer and they towered almost 3 feet above his head. They were not feathered, nor scaly, but rather seemed to be made of some weightless material. The figure longed to reach out and touch them, to press her body against the cool skin of the young vampire and let herself be encased safely inside those wings.

She knew that this could only mean one thing. If Draco was a vampire, and she knew he was, and if she was feeling the way that she could not deny she felt… there was only one explanation. This figure, the one in the shadows, fearful and amazed, was Draco Malfoy's mate. She shivered at the thought, both wonderful and terrible, she felt as though she could cry. She wanted to run back to her room and bury her face in her pillow and stay there for as long as she lived, but she knew she couldn't do that.

Before she knew it, Draco was touching down to the grass again, landing with excellent poise. He stood there, not breathing heavily nor sweating. But his stance held something different. Something more animalistic and powerful, and yet too tired to be restrained at the same time. Her heart sped up at the appreciated view of his chest and her hand flew to her chest as if to stifle the sound, but she knew it was useless. It was too late. He had already heard it. Draco's eyes smoldered, completely black all of a sudden and though any sane person would have been afraid, the girl was not frightened- but entranced.

Draco touched down onto the ground softly. He felt drained, his energy ebbing away. That is, the energy he had been using to control his hunger. He was not weakened in every way, he felt just as strong as he had before. Now however, he had no control.

He smelled her before he had even touched down. She smelled glorious, better than any donor he had encountered. Her pulse was getting faster, calling to him with every beat, growing more and more urgent. He heard that spectacular blood flow faster through the very veins he longed to sink his teeth into and his eyes, dark with bloodlust, whipped around to lock onto where it was coming from. He could distinctly see a figure in the shadows, but he didn't much care who it was. They smelled spectacular.

The girl, as she stood in the shadows, felt a chill shoot up her spine when she met the vampire's gaze. It burned with hunger and was both horrifying and alluring. Her mind screamed for her to run, to run fast and hard all the way back to her safe bed, but her body did not move. He approached her, slowly and predatorily. Her heart felt as though it might pump itself out of her chest, but it stayed where it was, and so did she. She was frozen, unable to bring herself to move away, to rip her gaze from the beautiful creature before her.

Before either of them knew it, he had closed the distance between them. He towered over her, his wings casting their faces into darkness. Draco dragged the miraculous scent into his lungs, into his body and felt his incisors lengthen. He reached out a hand, looking deep into the eyes of the girl he now stood before. His mind was trying to tell him something about this girl, about her name and who she was, but the animal in him didn't care. It didn't matter. He reached out a hand and placed it on her hip. She did not jerk away, she did not tremble; she simply held his gaze.

"You smell so… good." He said quietly, leaning his head down to nuzzle her neck. She knew what was going on, she knew why his eyes looked so black, she knew why he was acting like this and she knew most of all, that there was no going back to the way things were. She had passed the point of no return. She tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck, allowing him room–an awful temptation for him. As she pressed her body against his, Draco could not stifle the moan that escaped from his lips. He wanted so badly to drink from her, but at the same time, something kept him from just taking it.

"Please," he whimpered against her jugular as he nuzzled the soft flesh with his nose.

"Drink," she told him and almost immediately she felt the searing pain of his fangs burrowing into her neck. She cried out, but was relieved as the pain turned instantly to pleasure. Fire coursed through her veins as his mouth locked onto her and she succumbed to his whims. She clutched at his robes desperately to ground herself, throwing her leg around his hip to bring them that much closer.

Draco felt some floodgate in him open, some dam cracked, split down the middle and the vampire within him roared with happiness as her blood reached his lips. He drank with a fierce need, driven on and fueled by desire. Lost in the sensation he reveled in the sensation of her blood in his mouth. Hot and sweet, he could not stop his hips from pressing forward into hers. She moaned, the sound causing his arousal to grow and he sucked harder, unsatisfied.

She had never felt something so intense; it was beyond everything and anything she could have imagined. It felt so good, too good, she felt as though she might burn herself from the inside out with her need, as though she would burst into flames of desire. She moaned and writhed against him, too lost in his touch to really care about who he was and what he was and what he was doing to her. It was the best thing she had ever felt.

Draco wanted more, but a little voice in the back of his mind, part of his vampire seemed to say it was enough. Something was telling him to pull back and he had to obey. Reluctantly, he pulled his fangs from her flesh and licked across the wound, healing it. The girl in his arms whimpered at the loss and he crushed her body to his.

"Do I have the honor of learning the name of such a delicious young woman?" Draco purred against her neck. He could sense her hesitation and his grip on her tightened. "I need to know… you have no idea what you mean to me yet."

The girl seemed to relax and she brought her hand to his cool cheek. She brought his face away from her neck to make his eyes meet hers. Shocking blue met honey brown and Draco gasped.

"Impossible." Draco breathed.

"I'm sorry." She said instinctively, close to tears at the thought that perhaps, he would not want her. Something inside her was glad at that, but the rest of her denied it. She wanted him and she wanted him badly; she had to admit that to herself.

"Please, don't cry." Draco said, brushing his finger along her cheekbone as he watched her eyes well up with tears.

"I… I…" she didn't know what to say or what to do. Draco let his grip on her loosen and let her out of his arms. She was colder without him, even though the air was warmer than his skin. She crossed her arms across her stomach self consciously.

"But… but..." Draco sounded so confused. "But you tasted so good…"

She couldn't help it, she started to cry. It was just too much to take, being rejected by the one person she had never wanted in the first place. The one person she was willing to accept simply because she knew she had to. "I'm sorry." She said, the hurt evident in her voice. "I guess I couldn't have expected you to accept a mudblood." And with that, she finally got control of her legs and started to run away.

Draco stood there, wondering if he should follow as he watched the receding form of the girl he had just drunk from. He watched her go in confusion, anger and a twinge of sadness, for it was true that the person he had just held in his arms, whose blood smelled sweeter than anything imaginable, was none other than Hermione Granger.


	4. Decisions

Hermione ran hard and fast, all the way back to Gryffindor tower, her lungs burning furiously. Tears flowed from her eyes and stained her cheeks, she swiped at them defiantly. Who was she to cry over Draco Malfoy? She hated him. He hated her. Oh, how he hated her. The very thought made her cry more. She knew what was happening. She knew there was no way to avoid it. Draco Malfoy was a vampire. Every vampire has a mate, someone whose blood is perfect for them, they have no choice in who it is, but their body, mind and soul is usually devoted completely to their mate once they find them. A vampire can resist their mate sometimes, but their mate can never resist them.

Hermione knew full well that she was indeed Draco Malfoy's mate. She would spend the rest of her life in love with the one person she had hated for years. And yet the same man, could still hate her. Hermione ran through the common room, leaving a concerned Ron and Harry in her wake. She fled to her dorm and threw herself into her four poster, feeling as though her insides were breaking apart. She spelled her curtains shut, threw up a silencing charm and cried herself to sleep.

Draco sat high in the air, perched atop the highest point on the Astronomy tower. Obviously, it was the best place to view the stars, the quietest place on the grounds and hence, the best place to think.

Hermione Granger.

Hermione… Granger…

Gryffindor… Member of the Golden Trio… mudblood…

How would his father ever accept this?

What would Voldemort do if he found out?

What could happen to her?

What if she were to be hurt? Draco growled low in his throat at the thought. She would NOT be hurt.

How could she be his mate? Of all the students at Hogwarts, why did it have to be her? Granted, it could have been worse–a lot worse. It could have been a man, or worse, someone stupid. Granger had brains–Draco had to give her that. It could have been a Hufflepuff. Gryffindor was far from his favorite house, but Draco could at least respect their bravery and loyalty. At least his mate wasn't superficial. Most of the other girls in the school had little dignity left. They were all so concerned about who was wearing what and who was screwing who… Hermione was even, most likely, a virgin to boot. The very thought made a warmth pool in Draco's abdomen. His mate was pure, untouched… completely his.

And he would make her his own. It could have been worse, and try as he might to deny it, Hermione Granger had the most amazing blood he had ever tasted. He could live without her, he knew that… he just didn't want to.

With his decision made, Draco swooped down from the Astronomy tower and went back to the Slytherin dungeons for a few hours of sleep.

...

"I dunno, love, she looked really upset." Harry said as he stroked his fingers along the pale skin of his partner.

"Perhaps it is that time of month for Miss Granger." Harry's lover responded with a smirk. Harry swatted him.

"I'm serious here. I'm worried about her."

Pale fingers reached out and pushed Harry's chin up so that his emerald eyes met a burning gaze. "Don't worry about it tonight while you can do nothing; leave it until tomorrow morning when you can help her. You can talk to her over breakfast. Perhaps she will even feel better."

Harry smiled at his lover. "You always seem to know what to say to make me feel better."

"I'm much more interested in what you can do to make me feel better. I am rather cold." His partner admitted with a little pout. Harry's eyes glinted mischievously as he rolled atop his lover to straddle his hips dominantly.

"We'll just have to take care of that won't we?" Harry said playfully, rocking his hips against the man below him who moaned in response.

"God I love it when you're domineering like that."

"I know," Harry murmured against his love's ear. "But what I love more is hearing you make those sounds that come from when I do… this–" Harry ground his body against the skin beneath his own and bit down on his lover's neck roughly. Soft hands clutched at Harry as the man that belonged to them spent the night moaning in ecstasy.

hr

Draco made the trek up to Dumbledore's office early the next morning thinking that the old coot had better be up; Draco had more important people he needed to see and certainly more important things he had to do.

"Let me pass." He said to the gargoyle.

"Password?" it croaked.

"How am I supposed to know? Lemon drops?" Draco tried. The gargoyle remained as it was. "Cockroach clusters?...Chocolate frogs?... Bertie Bott's Every bloody Flavor Beans!" Draco cried at the statue which suddenly jumped aside revealing the headmaster himself.

"Mr. Malfoy, why are you yelling candies at my gargoyle?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. Draco scowled intensely at him.

"As it happens, I am in need of a word with you." The Slytherin said in his best Malfoy voice.

"Shall we adjourn to my office or is this a matter that can be discussed on the way to breakfast? My appetite is rather large this morning." Dumbledore admitted.

"It's a simple matter." Draco replied.

"Alright then." The headmaster nodded and walked on, setting a surprisingly brisk pace for someone so old.

"I'll get straight to the point," Draco said officially. "I received my inheritance over the summer."

"Ah yes, so you would like me to know that you are a vampire, then?" Dumbledore said. Draco was caught off guard, but quickly covered his surprise.

"How did you know?" he asked coolly.

"It's amazing what one experiences in this castle when one simply sits and listens." Dumbledore said cryptically. Apparently his brief time being blunt was over.

"Yes, well it is true that I am a vampire."

"I assume you'll be talking to me about the matter of blood donors, then?" Dumbledore interjected.

"Not exactly," Draco told him. "That matter had been settled before the school year had even begun and I did not see a good reason to include you in any of this actually. With all due respect, the fewer people that knew of this–the better." Draco paused and mustered all his Malfoy strength before continuing.

"But as of yet, certain events have changed the entire situation… I have found my mate."

"So soon?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.

"Yes. There was a great chance that whoever it could be attended Hogwarts and so it isn't that much of a surprise to me that I found them here. The surprise came in the form of just who it is; but that is information that will remain undisclosed until absolutely necessary."

"Mr. Malfoy is that really–"

"This is the only way I know how to protect my mate. Please try to understand, Headmaster. I just wanted to let you know that I am not here to endanger any of your students and now that I have found my mate, certain events that occur may be a bit… much to deal with."

Dumbledore nodded silently. "Alright; I suppose that's really all I can ask. Just remember that as a vampire, you aren't bound by the same laws that I am, as I'm sure you know."

"I am well aware of the misfortune that will come to me if I were to harm an innocent." Draco assured the old man who nodded and left Draco to enter the Great Hall like the rest of the students.

Hermione woke groggily, rising even later than Ron, which was not unnoticed by her friends. She dressed and pulled her hair back neatly. She would have been stunning if the sorrow evident on her face didn't make you want to cry as well. Silently, she followed Harry and Ron out of Gryffindor Tower and went to breakfast where she sat and refused to eat.

"Have you ever seen her like this?" Harry murmured to Ron over his bacon.

"Never; she's tougher than Malfoy. She's a girl, she might cry or get emotional, but I've never actually seen her so… hopeless." Ron replied.

"What do you think it is?" Harry wondered.

"Got a bad grade on a test?" Ron volunteered, earning an incredulous look from his friend. "What?"

"Come on, you know Hermione wouldn't take it like this. It would be an excuse for her to spend hours upon hours in the library learning more so that she would do better the next time around. In any case, I can't think of one class that she isn't acing this semester." Harry reasoned and Ron had to agree. After looking back at her, Harry decided he might as well take the chance…

"'Mione?" he tried hesitantly. "Is everything alright?"

The brunette looked up at her friend with watery eyes. What could she tell them? She was upset because she was in love with Draco Malfoy. That would go over well… Then again, a lot had happened to the three of them over the summer. Harry had changed the most. He out of everyone would have to understand. And who knew? It might help to tell someone. And if she couldn't tell her best friends, who could she tell? Harry's voice pulled her from her reverie.

"'Mione, you look like you might cry any minute."

"I will tell you later." She promised Harry who looked barely consoled.

"Okay…" he said reluctantly, not wanting to push it.

"I'll see you guys in Potions, I have to visit the loo." Hermione murmured and left.

Draco watched his mate rise from the Gryffindor table. His heart clenched as he saw the tears that threatened at the corners of her eyes. Despite his mind screaming at him to leave her alone, that she wouldn't want anything to do with him, his instincts already had him rising from his seat and pursuing her.

He found her, crouched in an alcove near the girl's bathrooms. He clutched at his chest as pain ripped through him when the sound of her sobs reached his ears. _Mate hurt… mate…hurting… help mate…_ Primal instincts kicked in.

Draco knelt carefully next to Hermione and reached out a cool hand, before deciding better of it and retracting it to his side again. He wasn't sure what to do. "Please, don't cry…" he said feebly.

Hermione's head snapped up immediately and she gasped. "Leave me alone." She breathed and stared at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry." Draco blurted, unable to say anything else.

"What?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted. Had Draco Malfoy just… apologized?

Draco took a deep breath to steady himself, pain still coursing through him at the sight of his broken mate. "I am sorry. I apologize. I was wrong. You were right. I don't think that this makes any of what I did before right, but I hope it makes you see that I'm willing to change. I'm still the same Draco from before, but I've learned a few things. I don't care if you were raised by muggles, wizards or bloody trolls. I want you. Just the way you are. And I will do my best to learn how to be… more deserving of you." Draco said with his head bowed.

Malfoys did not apologize, they were never wrong and they did not need to change because they were already perfect. And yet here was none other than Draco Malfoy, kneeling on the floor in front of Hermione Granger, willing to change everything he was just to be with her. And she did want him. And she was his mate. He couldn't be all bad.

"Please don't cry." Draco repeated and he reached out a tentative hand to wipe away her tears.

Hermione leaned into the touch unwillingly. "How can I trust you?" she asked, her voice a torrent of pain and hurt against Draco's unbeating heart.

"I don't know." Draco admitted. "But… if you gave me a chance, perhaps you could come to trust me…" he volunteered.

Hermione was beyond confused. This was not the Draco she knew… but he was even better than she wanted to think of him. She wanted to say that she didn't even like him, that he was a little brat that could crawl back to Voldemort for all she cared… but she couldn't lie.

"Please, Hermione, please give me a chance." Draco pleaded.

"You know what's going on, don't you?" Hermione said quietly.

"Yes." Draco admitted.

"There's a reason I taste so good to you. There's a reason I dream about you when I can manage to fall asleep. There's a reason you're always in my thoughts, even though it hurts. There's a reason it hurts so much to think that you rejected me…" Hermione's voice was filled with dread that ate at Draco and made him hate himself for putting it there.

"I'm your mate." Hermione said finally.

"Yes, you are. I know I don't deserve you. I haven't done anything that would lead you to trust me the way you should be able to. I have hurt you, something a mate should never do. But I did. And I am truly sorry, Hermione. All I ask for is one more chance. Please, let me try again. I will make you love me for who I am, not because nature is drawing us together, but because you actually like what you see when you look at me." Draco said. Hermione looked into his eyes for the first time since they had started speaking. Striking blue tore into her soul and even though her mind was still a bit rebellious, it lifted her heart. Hope leaked into the hazel brown of her eyes and even a smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.

"Ok." She agreed quietly. Draco's entire face lit up with joy and without thinking he wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor girl and lifted her off her feet, spinning her round in his arms. She couldn't contain the laughter that rose from her throat. Draco set her down, happiness blooming inside of him and clouding his thoughts. Without hesitation he leaned his face down to hers and let their lips connect. Hermione gasped against his mouth and tensed, but when he pulled away she pressed forward. She threaded her fingers through his hair and crushed his mouth against hers.

Their kiss was not filled with love, it was pure need. The need to know that there was still hope, that Draco was not lying, that he could love her, that she could come to love him, that he did want her, he was not rejecting her, that it would be okay. The simple need to be comforted left the two rivals in the corridor, their mouths fused together in passion, their bodies crushed against each other's urgently and their hearts open to all the joy and pain one could bring the other.


	5. Snape's Wisdom

"Late, Ms. Granger?" Snape drawled as if he sensed that she was off snogging his godson. "Ten points from Gryffindor; perhaps I will consider not deducting more if you can manage to get Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to finish on time." Hermione ducked her head and tried to ignore the obvious stares that followed her as she took her seat between her friends.

"Hey, 'Mione, where were you? You've never been late before…" Harry inquired concernedly.

"I just got caught up with something." Hermione mumbled in reply, taking stock of the feeble beginnings of the potion they were supposed to be brewing.

"Hermione!" Ron whispered furiously. "I told you what was going on when I started with Lavender. If it wasn't for your help, I wouldn't have her now and I'd still be miserable thinking about..." Ron trailed off, but continued with, "It's just not fair for you not to tell me!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, chiming in to back up Ron. "You were the first person to notice something was off when Luna and I were fighting. If it hadn't been for you poking and prodding at me to tell you what was up, I would have fucked it all up and then I would have lost one of my best friends." Ron made a gagging sound at Harry's heartfelt words and the Boy-Who-Lived rolled his eyes. "Ron, she was the first one I came out to..."

"I still don't get why you didn't tell us first." Ron responded in a surly voice.

"I didn't know what to say. She helped me figure it out, that's what best friends do." Harry said returning to Hermione. "Come on, 'Mione, it's about time you let us in."

Hermione sighed and looked at Harry with pleading eyes. "I promise, Harry, I will tell both of you everything later, but right now there is a potion we need to finish by the end of class and from the look of things, you two won't be much help. I know it doesn't make sense, but I'm actually a little better right now. Just leave it alone for now, please?"

Harry had to admit that there was a hopeful glint in Hermione's eyes that hadn't been there before and he was glad of that at least. He nodded to his friend and agreed to let the subject be. Hermione actually smiled at him, a real smile, and then turned back to perfecting the potion they had been assigned.

Draco counted himself lucky that no one had seen him slink in. One of the perks of being a vampire–it is easy to hide one's self. The Slytherin crept his way into the classroom, keeping to the shadows and sat down gracefully next to Pansy. His partner didn't even notice him sitting there until she looked up and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Draco! Don't sneak up on me like that!" Pansy hissed, her harsh voice contrasting with the way her hands tenderly dropped the dragon scales into the simmering brew.

"Sorry, luv. Came in late and didn't want to be noticed." Draco said coolly.

"What were you doing?"

Draco grinned ruefully. "I was making reservations for dinner." He said cryptically.

"Blaise was here on time and you weren't talking to me… Did you find another donor?"

"Not quite." Draco added the finely chopped ginger root, careful as ever, his vampirism making his ministrations quick and extremely precise. Draco's face remained nonchalant as the sound of Pansy's potions knife hitting the floor.

"No… no way…" she breathed.

"Yes way." Draco said matter-of-factly, sitting back and allowing the potion to cool properly.

"Who is it?" Pansy inquired.

"I–"

"Done already, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape loomed over the pair smirking, having successfully interrupted the conversation at what he was sure was a crucial point, judging by the look on Pansy's face.

"Simply letting it cool, professor," Draco said calmly. Snape eyed him curiously.

"You are… letting it cool?" he reiterated.

"Yes." Draco replied, beginning to get a bit confused.

"Ten points from Slytherin for not reading the instructions." Snape said, almost disbelievingly. "This potion only seems easily brewed," Snape informed his students. "But if one read the board, one would see that constant attention and stirring is required, even as it cools. If one lets the mixture simply sit, it becomes a paste and the two main ingredients can no longer be added, making it useless. I thought surely that a Malfoy could manage to brew a simply cleanser, perhaps I thought wrong." Snape walked away from their table, his robes billowing behind him.

Draco buried his face in his hands, not even bothering to look around to check if anyone had heard him being chastised for such a ridiculous mistake. Potions was his best subject! He was a Malfoy, wasn't he? His godfather's words had struck a nerve and they reverberated in his head.

_I thought surely that a Malfoy could manage to brew a simply cleanser, perhaps I thought wrong._

A Malfoy… a Malfoy certainly could have managed that. Why couldn't Draco? He wanted to say that it was because he was distracted by his mate, all the excitement, talking to Pansy, it was all so much, he simply overlooked part of the instructions. But another part of him said different. A small voice inside him hissed angrily, "It's because you're not a Malfoy anymore."

What had happened to him? Wasn't he still a Malfoy?

A Malfoy was strong, they were steadfast. Draco was nothing if not both of those. A Malfoy always kept a cool head; never let their emotions show… A Malfoy did not beg. A Malfoy was always the best. A Malfoy was never wrong. Draco had admitted to being wrong just today to a mud–to Gra–to Hermione. Draco couldn't even think of her as anything but Hermione. To think of her as anything else was insulting and he couldn't insult her, he just couldn't. The vampire in him wouldn't let him. Damn it, the vampire in him wouldn't let him think straight. He was still the same Draco Malfoy, wasn't he? But a Malfoy doesn't beg… A Malfoy does not care… A Malfoy does not care about mudbloods. And Draco did beg for Hermione, he did care. And Hermione was a… she was one of them.

Hadn't he said that it didn't matter to him that she was muggleborn?

But was that Malfoy or Draco talking?

What was the difference?

Confused and angry Draco fled the classroom, leaving a concerned Pansy and a baffled Potions Professor behind.

Hermione happily finished the potion, taking time to measure out every ingredient properly and stirring it the proper amount. Pleased with her work, the brunette bottled it and labeled it just in time for the end of the period.

"I'll meet you guys in Care of Magical creatures, I have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes…" Hermione said, cringing at the sound of their groans. Still, she was safe around Snape's desk and they were being swept away by the crowd.

"We WILL talk later!" she heard Ron shout over the din as he and Harry reluctantly exited with the rest of the class.

With a sigh, Hermione placed her perfectly brewed cleanser on the professor's desk and made to leave behind the rest of her classmates; a voice stopped her.

"Miss Granger, may I have a word with you?" Severus Snape drawled.

"I have to get across the castle to Arithmancy in only five minutes, sir." Hermione hesitated.

"I can write you a pass, girl. Sit down." The Potions Master instructed and the Gryffindor obeyed.

"I may not appear the most sensitive person out there, but I am very perceptive." Snape paused. "What exactly are you doing with my godson?" Hermione gaped at her professor.

"Excuse.. me–what? Err, nothing, I… what?" Hermione stammered causing her professor to scoff at her.

"Don't stutter, girl, it is unbecoming of someone so well educated. Now, I know that something is going on with my godson, and considering recent events I can't just tell you what I believe to be happening as it might turn out that you aren't privy to all the information I think you may be." Snape explained, though it left Hermione still somewhat confused.

"Now be quick about it and tell me what's going on between you and Draco." Snape ordered.

"Nothing really… I just… well…" Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"No," Snape breathed. "It couldn't be…"

"What?" Hermione asked, hoping to all things sacred that he wasn't thinking what she thought he was thinking…

"You are aware of what Draco is, are you not?" Snape inquired in a low voice.

"He's… a vampire." Hermione volunteered cautiously.

"Indeed. You are well informed of these creatures, Miss Granger." It was a statement, not a question and Hermione knew it.

"Yes." Hermione admitted.

"You know of their… personal habits." Snape commented.

"Professor Snape," Hermione started, but was interrupted by her superior.

"Has he drunk from you yet?"

Hermione's face showed her blatant surprise at the question, she blushed furiously, remembering that night and knowing she had to tell the truth. "Yes." She whispered. Her face burned and she swore she could feel those burning onyx eyes boring a hole in her downcast head.

"Tell me what happened; everything. Spare no detail, Miss Granger." Snape instructed. Hermione wanted nothing more than to leave, but she knew that her professor was looking out for his godson, and he knew that Draco was a vampire! How many other people knew? Certainly as few as possible, that information had to be most classified. Hermione wouldn't be able to talk to anyone else about this… Severus Snape had a right to know in any case. Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened her mouth to recount the night that Draco Malfoy had recognized her as his mate.

"I saw him get up and storm away from the Slytherin table near the end of the welcoming feast. I don't know exactly why I followed him, I just remember feeling compelled to do so, as if a little part of my brain turned on and suggested that he needed me to be there when he was done doing whatever it was he was going to go do.

"I followed him out to the quidditch pitch, wondering the entire time why I was following him and whether or not I should just turn back. And then..." Hermione paused as the image of Draco's bare chest flooded her mind again causing her blood to run a little warmer, her heart to beat a little faster. "Then I watched as he, um, took off his shirt and two beautiful wings came out of his back. Immediately, I started running through the list of magical creatures I knew that could have wings. I watched him take off, watched the way he moved and seemed to find utter peace and joy in the air, just flying. I was mesmerized by him. My list had narrowed down quite a bit after all this pondering. He hadn't been seen on the train, his skin was incredibly pale, as if he never saw the sun, his wings were not feathered nor scaled, he had no markings on his skin and he hadn't seemed to eat anything at dinner. The longer I watched him, the surer I was that he was indeed a vampire.

"I had intended to turn back, but as I was about to, he touched back down to the ground, just a few metres off from me. I saw his… his skin, shining in the evening. I know he heard my pulse quicken and his head whipped up to meet my eyes. I remember gasping and knowing he was going to find me. I thought I should run, but I didn't. My body seemed incredibly content to stay where it was. He approached me, and while my mind was screaming at me to get away from him, something else was keeping me rooted to the ground, anticipating the moment when he would finally be close to me."

Hermione cleared her throat, blushing furiously at this point, but plowed on. "I was hidden in shadows and sure that he couldn't see me. He got very close to me and said that I smelled good. There didn't seem to be words needed for what was going on. I knew that he was a vampire and with every centimetre that he got closer to me, the more I wanted to…" Hermione coughed here and didn't bother finishing that sentence.

"I knew that there was only one possible reason for my sudden change of heart. I had to be his mate. I mustered the courage to look into his eyes and noticed that they were completely black. I knew that meant he was incredibly hungry, but I wasn't afraid. I wanted him to drink from me. I wanted to feel his fangs sink into my flesh, to feel his body against mine as he sucked from my veins with a voracious appetite that only my blood could quench."

Snape cleared his throat and Hermione knew she had gotten carried away. Her face turned beet red and there was an awkward moment of silence. "Go on." Snape urged and Hermione started again feeling more embarrassed than she could ever remember.

"I invited him to drink from me and he did. When he was done, he asked for my name. I didn't want to tell him, but I thought that if he was my mate, maybe he would be okay with it; that there must be more to him than I have thought for the past few years. I let him see who I was and he said…" Hermione took a steadying breath.

"'Impossible,' he said. I said I was sorry and started to cry. I sensed that he wasn't pleased with me and couldn't help it. 'Please don't cry,' he said and wiped away a tear from my cheek. He let me out of his arms and I suddenly felt as though I had lost something. He seemed confused and said, 'But you tasted so good.' I said that I guessed I couldn't have expected him to accept a mudblood and I ran for it. I ran away from him and away from the sinking feeling that overtook my entire chest. I felt as though I was running away from part of myself and that only made it worse. I knew I had to be his mate that he was perfect for me, that I would never be able to live without him– but that he was rejecting me, because he could do that. He can do that, he can live without me." Hermione let tears escape from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I don't know what I'm going to do now." She said, hopelessly.

"He cares about you." Snape said surely.

"How do you know?"

"I know my godson. Potions is his best subject. Something, or someone, was distracting him today, he completely botched his potion."

"That may have been my fault… I saw him before class. That's why I was late." Hermione confessed.

"What happened?"

"I was very upset because of what had happened between us on the quidditch pitch. I left the Great Hall early and collapsed in one of the hallways, crying like a little girl. Draco came and found me crying. He said things that he couldn't have meant and I wanted to believe him, and I think a part of me does because I feel a bit better, but a part of me still doesn't believe him because he's Draco Malfoy and I can't believe that a Malfoy would mean any of what he said to me."

"What did he say?"

"He apologized. He said that he was sorry. He told me that I was right and admitted that he was wrong. He begged me to forgive him for what he did. He said that he didn't care that I am muggleborn. He said that he wanted to prove that he was the same Draco, but that he was just a lot smarter. He wanted to make me love him for the Draco that he was, not because I am his mate. He kissed me, and I kissed him back, wishing it could all be true, but how could it, professor? You know him better than anyone, I reckon. A Malfoy doesn't beg, a Malfoy is never wrong, nor sorry, nor willing to associate themselves with muggleborns. How could Draco have meant any of what he said?"

Snape paused and seemed to think about this for a minute. "I have never heard of Draco saying any of those things, especially when he should have. I do know however, that Draco does not joke about that sort of thing and, when serious, always says what he means and means what he says. Draco may be a Malfoy, but you are stereotyping Miss Granger. If I had said to you that all muggleborns are less powerful than purebloods–"

"You know that's not true."

"Exactly." Snape replied. "Draco may be a Malfoy, but not every Malfoy is the same. And while there is a trademark mask of composure that his family carries well, it does not mean that that is all there is to Draco. You would do well to look a little deeper into my godson, that is if you truly care for him."

"I do!" Hermione said vehemently, surprising herself. Snape smirked down at her.

"I know." He said simply and she lost herself for a moment in the maze of his obsidian eyes. Severus Snape could be a cad sometimes, but he was so damn smart! Hermione had to admire him for it.

"I think it's about time that you made it to Arithmancy." The Potions Master said plaintively, summoning a piece of parchment to write his student a pass.

"Will you talk to Draco about this?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"What time is it, Miss Granger?"

Hermione cast a tempus charm quickly. "Ten thirty, professor. Will Draco hear about this conversation?" she repeated her question exasperatedly.

"I think it is better that you go now, Miss Granger, I have important things to do and awful students to fail. Do come back some time for another chat. It would be wise if you kept the number of people who know about Draco's status to a maximum of… well let's say… just me." Snape said with finality and practically shoved the young Gryffindor out of the dungeon, shutting the door forcefully behind her. Hermione's brows knitted together in worry and she hurried off to her next class, her mind steadily focused on one person.


	6. Choosing Sides

Hermione sat in Arithmancy, barely paying attention to the professor, who was babbling on about something she had already studied over the summer, and thinking back to her conversation with Snape.

She couldn't believe she had talked about Draco that way, couldn't believe she'd talked that way to Snape! And the things Snape had replied with… Did he really think that Draco could care for her? He did say so… why was it so hard to believe? What would she tell her friends? What could she tell them? They certainly weren't in the circle of people Hermione assumed Draco would have informed of his current condition. But she was his mate! She couldn't keep something like that from them. She would have to tell them something, but they weren't going to like it… She couldn't tell them just yet. But she promised she would talk to them and tell them what was going on… what could she say?

Draco paced his room, not caring that he had just walked out of class without being dismissed, nor that he was missing another class by staying in his room to let his anger out. He was supposed to be in Arithmancy with Granger, but how could he face her now? After everything he'd said… What was wrong with what he said, he had meant it, but it was all just so–and he was incredibly–and the entire situation just made him–and she was–and he wanted–Draco stormed from his quarters, fed up with his own mind and made a beeline for his potions master's quarters.

He pounded furiously on the door, not bothering to waste time with manners or anything. The door opened and Draco pushed past his professor without waiting to be invited in and flopped down on the sofa near the fire.

"Can I help you?" Snape asked, irritated. Draco looked up at him, his striking blue eyes smoldering in the dim light.

"I sure hope so," he muttered in reply.

Severus sighed deeply, understanding that this might take awhile. "Give me a second to get rid of my company…" he excused.

"You have company? This early in the morning?" Draco exclaimed.

"Yes." Severus answered curtly and sojourned into his bedroom. A few moments later he returned, flushed and looking thoroughly snogged. Draco's eyes widened at the sight. His godfather was practically smiling with content!

"Who is it sharing your bed these days?" Draco asked almost indignantly. Snape laughed, a real laugh!

"What concern is it of yours who I'm sleeping with?" Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow at the blond sitting on his couch.

"I have a right to know who is shagging my godfather." Draco said in a very Malfoy-ish tone.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Snape said cryptically.

"Try me." Draco challenged. His partner couldn't be worse–more surprising than his mate.

Snape eyed the young man in front of him as though he were debating whether or not to tell him. He took a deep steadying breath before coming clean, "Remus Lupin."

"What?" Draco all but yelled. "How is that even possible! I thought he was with what's her face, Tusks or whatever, I mean, he's part of the Order, he can't be gay, it's like against their rules, isn't it? What the hell? And if you're shagging him then… then you must be loyal to… Severus, you're with Dumbledore?"

"No, I'm with Lupin."

"But you're loyal to the light side."

"Actually, he's got pretty dark hair in some places…"

"Ew! You know what I mean, stop talking like that!"

"Like what?" Snape grinned evilly.

"Stop making all those sexual references about Lupin! It's so gross!"

"Actually, I find it quite delicious…"

"What?"

"Lupin…"

"Is shagging you." Draco lamented.

"Technically, I'm shagging him." Snape corrected.

"At least you're not a bottom."

"No, I am, I just prefer to ride on top."

"Holy shit, I did not need to hear that!"

"But you didn't hear us."

"Agh!" Draco threw his hands up in the air and made for the door.

"Is that all you came for?" Snape wondered amusedly.

Draco groaned and turned back around, collapsing in the nearest chair. "This is bad, Severus. Real bad."

"What's going on?"

"I found my mate."

"How is that bad?"

"It's Hermione Granger."

"I see… that's interesting."

"That's all you have to say? I tell you that my mate is a Gryffindor, muggleborn who is part of the fucking Golden Trio and all you have to say is 'that's interesting'?" Draco cried.

"Yes."

"How can it work between us? I already hurt her once, and I only just made up for it, but it was so… un-Malfoy. I mean, I feel like I'm still me, but there's so many things I can't believe anymore and I'm so confused because a Malfoy would never doubt those things and I am a Malfoy still, right? So why am I doubting them, if it's still me in there at all, and if it's not then who is she being mated to and I just don't get it…" Draco huffed.

"Draco, if I told you that all Slytherins are Death Eaters, what would you say?" Snape inquired calmly.

"That you were an idiot who paid too much attention to stereotypes."

"Exactly. I know you are a Malfoy, and that the Malfoy family has a certain… air, a certain way of doing things that is well known. But that is not to say that there isn't more to them. You are your own man, Draco. You can have your own opinions and still be a Malfoy, you know." Snape tried to repeat what he had told Hermione just that afternoon.

"I'm scared though," Draco admitted.

"Why?"

"My father is so loyal to the Dark Lord… he wants me to take the mark soon." Draco said softly. "I don't want to do it. He'll find out that I'm a vampire, and if I mate with Gr–Hermione then he'll find her and use her to get to me unless I do his bidding. I can't stand the thought of her hurt. I don't think I really care for her yet, but my vampire is in love with her soul and it wants me to protect her and I would, with my life, but I don't know how." Draco's eyes glistened with moisture and he threaded his hands through his long blond hair.

"I don't think you know your father very well, Draco. He cares for you more than you are admitting." Severus was gentle, but serious.

"I don't know, Severus... He always seems so distant and you can't deny that Voldemort is in my future. What can I do? I don't want to serve under that… that tyrant. I think muggleborns are just as well off as purebloods, I think muggles are idiots, but we can't kill them just because they're stupid! I think that Hermione Granger is quite possibly the most amazing witch I've ever met. I think that power should go to who deserves it and earns it, not who can take it with the most force. I think that magic is magic, no matter where it comes from, and I think that the Dark Lord can kiss my ass if he wants to use me as his advantage in this war.

"But how can I say all of that when the truth is that if he had Hermione, I would let him use me, just so long as she wasn't hurt." Draco let one tear escape from his eyes, unable to stop it as it fell down his cheek. "My dad is going to be so… disappointed."

"Lucius wants you to take the mark?" Snape asked.

"The Dark Lord showed up for a visit and I overheard them talking, after he had crucio-ed my dad a couple times for 'insolence' he asked when I would take the mark. My dad said that he didn't want to rush things, but that it would be soon."

Severus sighed deeply and crossed the room to sit on the footrest in front of Draco. "Lucius has kept certain information from you, Draco, for your own well being. But given recent events, I think it's time you knew. There's a reason your dad has gone through so much trouble to keep you a secret from Voldemort. Don't you realize the kind of trouble he would get into if the Dark Lord found out that he had deliberately hid you from him?" Snape paused to let that sink in. "Lucius didn't want to put you in any danger by telling you this, but I think you'll feel safer knowing… Your father is not loyal to Voldemort. He's a spy, like me, for Dumbledore. He has been ever since you were born. The night you were brought into this world, Voldemort came to the house and tried to take you to raise you as a sort of… apprentice. Your father, as respectfully as possible, refused, insisting that it would be better for you to grow up with your family. The Dark Lord was furious and he let your father feel it. Lucius was offset with Voldemort for awhile because of it, but he was successful in not letting you go with him. The Dark Lord left you with him saying that he didn't want to waste his time with the son of such an insolent man.

"Your father saw that Voldemort would never care about his followers as he said he did, he cared only about himself, and you mattered more to him than any oath he'd made to some madman. So he went to Dumbledore and switched sides, but stayed on as a spy so as to take care of you and Narcissa." Snape explained.

Draco sat, staring at Snape with an unreadable expression, as if trying to absorb all the new information. "So… he would be okay with me not taking the mark?" Draco wondered.

"It's not that simple, Draco," Snape said sadly. "If you don't take the mark, the Dark Lord may try to kill you, or worse, kill Miss Granger."

Draco's throat constricted unwillingly at the thought of Hermione being tortured by Voldemort. "She would never be with a Death Eater."

"You don't know that, but you must make the choice… Do you want to be with her and most likely die or even more likely watch her die, or live and possibly never be with her while she lives safely?" Snape posed the question softly, as if he hoped that if his voice was lower, the information would be easier to take. Draco looked up at his godfather, hopelessly, and Severus knew then that it wasn't.

...

Remus Lupin emerged from the bedroom when he heard Draco leave Severus' chambers. The snarky potions master was sitting on the sofa holding his head in his hands. Remus crept over to him and placed his warm hands on his lover's shoulders which immediately seemed to droop in relief yet also in bereavement.

"Are you alright?" the Werewolf asked gently.

"You stayed," Severus said. "I told you that you ought to go out."

"I thought you might need me when everything was over." Remus said as he began to massage Severus' shoulders. The man grumbled low in his throat, but Remus could detect the small amount of contentment that stole into the sound.

"I'm so worried about him, Remus." Severus admitted. "He's got so much on his shoulders so suddenly, I don't want him broken, but I fear that is exactly what will happen. I believe it will come down to him sacrificing himself for Miss Granger."

"You obviously don't know Hermione that well." Remus said. "I don't doubt that Draco has many battles to face, but do you honestly think that his mate would stand by idly and watch as he offered himself to the Dark Lord?"

Severus shook his head. "But what can she do? It's not as though she can use her smarts to annoy the Dark Lord into handing Draco over." he said bitterly.

"No she can't save him from those terrors," Remus admitted. "But she can be there for him to ease the pain afterwords, as I only wish I could have been for you." The brunet murmured softly.

Severus turned to face his partner. "You know I don't hold that against you. All those years in school, I could have used a hand to pull me up because yes, I was spiraling downwards. But you did not approve of your friends' ridicule and you did not participate. I never expected you to try to stop them. Things happen for a reason, Remus. I don't think any less of you for what has happened and what cannot be changed."

"I just believe that I should have said something." Remus admitted guiltily.

"But you didn't." Severus replied bluntly and Remus could no longer meet his eyes. Severus reached out a hang and turned the Werewolf's face to his so that their eyes could meet. "And I don't care." Severus said forcefully and Remus smiled weakly.

The dark man pulled his lover down for a kiss and his mouth burned with the taste of Remus. The Werewolf leaned further over the back of the couch to get a better angle for snogging, but Severus had different plans. The professor grabbed Remus' shirt and yanked him over the cursed, cloth divider and onto him on the sofa cushions.

"Eager, are we?" Remus mused against the other man's lips. Severus only growled in response and the primal sound went straight to Remus' groin.

The Werewolf dipped his hips down to meet the ones below him, groaning as his arousal met his lover's through their clothes. Remus snarled and ripped at Severus' shirt, sparing no thoughts for the now ruined clothing that he threw to the floor. The brunet ran his hands possessively over the cool flesh that greeted him. He leaned his mouth in to the crook of Severus' neck and bit down harshly, eliciting a low moan from the man.

"Mine!" Remus hissed, his voice clouded with animalistic lust.

"Yours." Severus agreed, whimpering as the Werewolf sucked at the skin just below his earlobe.

The potions master leaned appreciatively into his partner's touch. Remus' hands singed their way from his sides to his arms, to his wrists, back up to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abdomen and oh Merlin, down to the waistband of his trousers. Severus' body arched up to meet Remus' hands.

Remus let his hands dance along Severus' hipbones as he kissed and nibbled a path to the man's broad chest. He nuzzled the dark haired man's hardened nipple lovingly. He grinned before taking it into his mouth, laving it with his hot tongue and gently tugging on it with his teeth. Severus' breathing grew shallow and Remus growled, wanting more of a response.

Remus' teeth collided with Severus as he bit the pink flesh roughly and the body that belonged to it cried out. Grinning, Remus continued his journey down his lover's body, kissing every bit of skin he could reach on his way. A low rumble in Remus' chest alerted Severus of the Werewolf's intentions and he quickly gripped his trousers where Remus had them.

"Don't ruin these! They're my last good pair!" Severus said forcefully, but the Werewolf only grinned at his mate.

"That means we'd have to buy you new ones..." He said mischievously, his eyes dark with lust. "And then I could fuck you in front of the dressing room mirror."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Remus seemed to take this as permission and took the liberty of ripping Severus' trousers down the legs and flinging them away. He smiled at the sight of his partner, bare before him.

The potions master threaded his fingers through Remus' hair and used the light brown strands as leverage to drag the man up to his lips.

"A little rough today?" Remus groaned as the dark haired man undulated his hips up to meet his own.

"Shut up." Severus muttered against his lips before pushing his tongue into the fiery caverns of Remus' mouth. He played with Remus' tongue, pleased when the Werewolf turned to melted butter in his arms and then became more brutal to compensate for his brief lack of dominance.

Severus sent buttons flying everywhere as he forced the offending shirt from his lover's body. Remus did away with his trousers, sliding them down to his knees before Severus' arms were around him again and his attention was drawn to the heat that pooled between his legs.

Skin to skin, the two were driven mad in each other's arms. Their breath came in short pants and their hands were everywhere, desperately trying to touch every bit of flesh on the other's bodies.

"Are you going to fuck me, or what?" Snape groaned, his manner sarcastic as usual, but Remus smirked at the need present in his voice.

Remus presented two fingers to Severus who sucked on them as he continued to rut his body against the brunet. Remus gave a guttural moan and quickly took his fingers from the professor's mouth and placed them at his entrance. Snape whimpered as his mate teased him with his fingers and clung tightly to Remus' vast expanse of shoulders. The submissive sounds went straight to the animal within Lupin and he wasted no time in deciding that Severus had had enough preparation and impaling the dark haired man with one swift motion.

Severus cried out as he felt himself instantly filled with Remus' length. The Werewolf set a fast brutal pace, pulling himself nearly out and then thrusting back in to the hilt. The feeling of Severus around him was overwhelming and Remus lost himself to the beast inside him, snarling ferally as he pounded into Snape's body.

With shaking hands, Severus raked his fingernails frantically across Lupin's back, pushing back against Remus' manhood, meeting him thrust for thrust. Severus pulled Remus close and swayed his hips, causing Remus to feel even more tightly encased. The Werewolf moaned loudly into Severus' ear, their bodies never ceasing in their endless pursuit of having more of each other.

Remus' chest was pressed tightly to his partner's, his hands steadied on his thighs, using them to help drive himself deeper into that gorgeous body. Severus brought one hand up to tangle in Remus' hair and turned his face to meet Remus' cheek. His tongue darted out and met the glistening skin of the brunet's jaw. Slowly and sensually, Severus trailed the tip of his tongue from Remus' chin to his temple, tasting the sweat that had formed there.

Their moans grew louder, their movements more frantic as they got closer to release. Remus cradled Severus' head with one hand at the back of his neck and crashed their lips together. The kiss was messy and hot, their breath mingling between them as they were driven higher and higher into clouds of rapture. Remus bit Severus' lower lip and raked his hands down his mate's body to grasp his leaking cock in hand.

Severus threw back his head and yelled in ecstasy when Remus' fingers came into contact with his aching hard-on.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed as Remus slid his thumb over the head of his penis.

"I-Remus, oh-I'm gunna-" Severus stammered as he felt himself close to his release.

"Yeah, I-oh fuck.." Remus panted. He rammed himself forward, body glistening with sweat.

Fire erupted inside of Severus Snape and tears formed at his eyes in response to the overload on his senses. It felt so fucking good!

"FUCK!" he cried out as he spilled himself, toppling over the edge of sanity and into pure bliss. "REMUS!"

"SEVERUS!" Lupin shouted as Severus' heat pressed in around him sending him into the stars. His vision blurred as his orgasm washed over him. Pure pleasure flooded him and he tipped his head back and howled as he shot his seed deep into the body of his lover.

Severus clutched his lover tightly, holding on as if afraid to die of pleasure as he shook with his fulfillment. Remus cradled his partner's body lovingly as they tried to catch their breath, overrun by the sensations running through them.

Remus covered Severus' body possessively as they collapsed, sated and spent. Severus sighed in contentment and played with the smooth hair at the base of Remus' scalp.

"That was..." Remus trailed off.

"Incredible, mind-blowing, amazing, intense...wonderful..." Severus offered.

"I like all those words." Remus affirmed. A contented silence grew between them as they lay on the sofa, too tired to go and clean up.

"Severus..." Remus started, sounding as though he didn't know whether or not to say what was on his mind.

"Yes?" Snape prompted after a few moments.

"...I...I really love you...Severus?"

"Yes?"

Remus blushed furiously and made to detach himself from the dark haired man when a cold hand grabbed his arm and kept him there.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I hoped I could say it when you felt the same." Remus said softly. "I knew you would understand what me loving you means for us, but I didn't want your emotion just because you knew you had to." Severus was silent for awhile.

"I'm sorry," Remus said quietly. "I hoped you'd be glad to find that i am your mate, but I understand that you aren't."

"Don't be stupid, Lupin, don't you know me better than that?" Severus snapped. "I love you too, you lying bastard!"

"I didn't lie!" Remus said, but his affronted expression was betrayed by his ecstatic tone.

"This entire time, I thought you were enjoying me because you couldn't find your mate. There was a constant fear that you were going to find them any minute and would leave me for them. You're a bloody Werewolf! You are one of the most loyal and kind creatures to your mates. I swear!

"I mean, I'm the only one who can bloody touch you during the full moon!" Severus ranted. "Do you have any idea how... honored, I am?" Severus spoke in his condescending teacher tone, but Remus smiled anyways.

"I wish everyone would think of Werewolves like that."

"Yeah," Snape snorted. "Well I have to, I'm in love with one."

"You... you do love me." Remus stated as if it finally sunk in.

"You're very quick on the uptake." Snape derided, but Remus only beamed and kissed the snarky bastard.

"Oh, Merlin, did I get the puppy excited again?" Snape asked, sounding annoyed and looking like he anticipated nothing more.

"Come on," Remus beckoned. "Let's go get cleaned up."

"Is that code for shower sex?"

"WOOF!"


	7. Care of Magical Creatures

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron called in unison. Their brunette was bustling toward them, but her mind was obviously elsewhere.

"Hey guys," she greeted absently.

"So, what–"

"Is everyone 'ere, now?" Hagrid interrupted Harry who sighed in resignation and turned his attention to the professor.

"Alright, I got a great lesson fer ye," Hagrid said excitedly, foreshadowing a long and painful period to come. Most of the student managed to contain their groans however, and waited for their professor to reveal the topic of their lesson.

Hagrid faced his class with one of many cages in his hand. Each student held their breath as they witnessed Hagrid's beefy fingers unlocking the wooden cubicle. In an attempt to abstain from being attacked, the class took a collective step away.

The small latch was flung open and the cage looked almost empty for a moment. Some students looked away, unable to stand the suspense, as Hagrid slowly reached his hand into the holding cell. Snarling and snapping made Hermione gasp and grab Harry's hand for reassurance. Hagrid let out a small yelp and yanked back his hand suddenly, causing every student to jump. When his hand was in plain sight, the entire class seemed to breathe in relief at the sight of what was clinging to Hagrid's index finger.

"Now, who can tell me wha' this beau'iful li'le creature is?" Hagrid asked.

Everyone looked expectantly at Hermione, knowing she would have the answer, but they were surprised to find her absentmindedly biting her nails and gazing off into space. Luna's hand slowly went up after a few moments of stunned silence.

Hagrid cleared his throat, "Erm, yes, Luna?"

"They're baby Gnargles…" she said. "They must be young because they haven't developed their need to forage yet, since at this point in their life they would be entirely dependent on their parents. They eat mostly plants and herbs, they love rosemary and I suppose right now they're really only good for… snuggling."

"Thank you, Luna, 15 points to Ravenclaw!" Hagrid said excitedly. "Now yer task fer today is to observe 'em and I got a surprise fer ye at the end o' class! So split up inter groups o' two and take a Gnargle fer yerself."

The students seemed to suddenly conquer their fears of being maimed or bitten and eagerly went to get their own baby Gnargles. Harry paired up with Luna right away and they proceeded to observe their Gnargle with excitement. Ron turned to Hermione expectantly and she was about to say that they ought to get to work when a tall blonde stepped between them.

"Excuse me, Ronald," Draco Malfoy said, surprisingly civilly. "I believe that Miss Granger is going to be my partner for this assignment."

Ron spluttered at the polite Malfoy that faced him, dumbfounded. Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably; already tense from having to be kind to a Weasley. "That is, as long as you don't mind…" the Slytherin said causing Ron to gape open mouthed at him.

"Well I–"

"He doesn't." Hermione spoke up quickly cutting off Ron. "He doesn't mind. I'll be your partner, Draco." The Malfoy heir smiled brightly, nodded to Ron courteously and offered his arm to Hermione who took it and allowed him to lead her away.

Parvati Patil came up behind Ron. "Are you alright, Ron? You look quite ill… It's alright; I don't have a partner either. Want to share my Gnargle?"

"Sure…" He agreed dazedly and Parvati smiled in relief, leading him off to a comfortable place to sit.

"I didn't know you were still in this class after what happened third year," Hermione said.

"I'm not, but I happen to have a free period about now and when I noticed that you were over here…" He trailed off and Hermione expected him to add something flippant and indifferent.

"Well, I wasn't going to risk coming over," Draco told her. "But then I saw you with the Wea–I saw you with Ron and I decided that I didn't want you being that close to him–or anyone. I only want you that close to me." Draco admitted. He kept a mask of apathy on his face and in his tone, unable to bring himself to actually show emotion to her. Hermione was too special to him now, if he opened up too far he could lose her and Draco could not afford to lose her.

Hermione understood how hard Draco was trying to open up to her and smiled warmly at him. Bravely she volunteered her hand to him and intertwined their fingers. Draco finally met her eyes and they held each other's gaze, awed at the clarity and peace that flooded them when they did.

"So what are we doing?" Draco asked.

"I think I'm going to try and let myself love you." Hermione said quietly.

"Though that makes the Vampire in me want to take you in my arms and fly away in happiness, I meant what are we doing in class?" Draco clarified with a smirk.

"Oh." Hermione blushed furiously and the sight warmed Draco's lifeless heart. "We are supposed to be observing the Gnargles."

"You're kidding," Draco accused.

"No, I suppose Luna isn't as loony as we all thought." Hermione said with a small smile that pleased the Vampire.

"Don't Gnargles steal things and hide them in places where you'll never find them?" Draco inquired, horrified at the thought of his hairbrush being stolen.

"Yes, but not until they mature. These little punks are still infants, so we've got a year or so before we have to worry about that." Hermione informed him.

"But Hagrid will have them out of here before then anyway… right?" Draco hoped.

"Who knows?" Hermione said indifferently and Draco stared at her.

"What?" She asked amusedly.

"Aren't you worried about them stealing your things?" Wondered Draco.

"Not really. It gives me an excuse to go out and buy new things."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Well…" Hermione responded. "I like to shop."

"I'd like to take you out sometime; buy you all the beautiful things I lay my eyes on." Draco blurted, immediately cursing himself for not being able to control his Vampire from sharing his thoughts with his mate. Hermione's cheeks reddened to a nice tomato color.

"We should probably start–"

"Alright kids, time's up, gather over 'ere fer a bit." Hagrid interrupted Hermione who looked up in surprise that the period was already ending.

"Now I've talked it over wit' yer teachers and we've all agreed tha' it would be beneficial fer ye all to continue this project out o' class. Ye'll all be responsible to take yer Gnargles back to yer rooms to watch and care fer 'em.

"Ye can either split the days tha' you and yer partner have the Gnargle or ye can get a pass from yer head o' house to share rooms and take her Gnargle to yer classes. Unless, tha' is, ye want the li'le ones alone in yer dorms fer who knows 'ow long. I'd suggest ye all get over yer issues wit' personal space and take the second option. The Gnargles will be easier to take care of tha' way. Ye'll have 'em fer a week, now come up and get yer packets on 'ow to care fer 'em. They'll tell ye all ye need to know."

The faces of Hermione's peers as they received their pamphlets varied sharply. Some looked terrified, some disgusted and others ecstatic. Hermione saw Harry and Luna talking happily about sharing rooms. Harry put his hand up to his mouth and whispered in her ear. Ron was being dragged around by Parvati, looking-for once-deep in thought.

"I got you a pamphlet." Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh, thank you." Hermione said absently

"So I assume you'll want a superior grade for this assignment…" Draco continued.

"Of course."

"Wonderful. I'll ask McGonagall for our shared rooms. We're both prefects anyway, I assume that we'll simply be choosing between the rooms we've got now."

"Wait–whoa, what?" Hermione stammered.

"Hagrid informed us that it will be easier and more efficient for us to care for the monster if we share rooms." Draco said with a voice tinged with amusement. _/Merlin, you're cute when you're flustered./_

"Um, thank you?"

"What?" /_Did I just say that out loud? Oh fuck, she's blushing! I did! Fuck!/_ "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that out loud." Draco admitted.

"No, it's alright," Hermione said, allowing herself to take a step towards Draco so that the distance between them was cut in half. "I'm beginning to like your compliments."

"Good. It's hard for me not to give them." Draco admitted.

"Will it be hard on you for me to be around you all the time?" Hermione asked suddenly. Draco smiled at his mate's knowledge.

"I assure you, I have enough self control."

"Speaking of which, I know that you can only control your hunger for several hours or a day at most–"

"If you would prefer, I can keep my blood donors." Draco said immediately, not wanting his mate to feel pressured.

"NO!" Hermione protested. She blushed at her forwardness and put a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry." Draco chuckled. "I just–I mean–I can't–" Hermione stammered before sighing exasperatedly. "I can't stand the thought of you drinking from anyone else." She finally admitted.

"I see," Draco smirked and ran his fingers along Hermione's cheekbone lovingly. "I quite like that." Hermione shivered under his touch. "Are you cold, love?" Draco murmured, knowing the answer. Hermione shook her head no, as he expected.

"I–I–I–I–" Hermione couldn't think when he was so close to her. He was wonderful, a god, amazing, superfluous–he was everything she could ask for and more and he was touching her! His fingertips were touching her skin!

Draco smiled, he smiled at her! Hermione could have exploded with the happiness that was blooming in her chest. "Should you be rushing off to another class?" he inquired worriedly.

"N-n-no, I have lunch now." Hermione answered distractedly, focused completely on the fingers that were caressing her cheek.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from getting a good meal in; you must be hungry." Draco said.

His face leaned closer to hers so that her breath was hot on his face. "Draco," Hermione whispered his name.

"Yes?"

Hermione looked positively edible like this. She was flustered, her curly brown hair coming undone from the messy bun in the back of her head, her pink pouted lips, sitting slightly parted, were inviting him to have a taste.

"Hermione," he wanted her, but he couldn't take her. He might hurt her. He needed her permission. "May I kiss you?" he breathed against her lips.

Hermione nodded numbly. Draco wanted to crush his lips down to hers as soon as he had permission, to sink his fangs into her lips and drink straight from her mouth, but he didn't. Using every single ounce of the control he had, Draco slowly lowered his face to his mate's. Gently, Draco nudged his lips against the soft, pink ones below him. Hermione would have none of it though. His lips ignited fire in her and her hand flew to the back of his neck to bring him harder down to her. She dropped the caged Gnargle she held and let her other hand come up around his shoulders to tangle in his platinum hair.

Draco was surprised by her intensity, but relieved as she pressed her body against his urgently. Throwing caution to the wind he let his hands move to the small of her back. She shuddered against him and whimpered into his mouth. Draco fisted his hands in Hermione's robes, clutching them as tightly as possible, trying to hold himself back from crushing her small body with the force of his passion.

After a moment, Draco pulled his lips from Hermione's after a moment. She moved further, her eyes still closed, her brows knitted together in confusion as to why those wondrous lips weren't against hers anymore.

"Hermione, stop, I can't–" Draco protested weakly.

"Hm?"

"I don't want to hurt you, love. I have to stop. You're making me hungry."

"Oh," Hermione giggled and allowed some distance between her face and Draco's, but didn't separate herself from him.

"You're so warm." Draco marveled.

"So are you," Hermione replied in amusement. "But only to me. It's because I'm your mate. A Vampire's mate is perfect for them. The same magic that makes their blood taste the best is what allows me to feel warm when I'm with you." Hermione blushed. "Sorry, I was rambling. You probably know that already anyway."

"No, I love how knowledgeable you are. It's extremely sexy." Draco said.

Hermione snorted. "Yeah, sure."

"No, honestly, you're wonderful." Draco paused appreciatively. "Still, I think you should probably put at least a few inches between us before I lose control. I don't need to feed yet, I can wait."

"Until when?"

"Until after you eat."

"Have you fed since that night on the quidditch pitch?" Hermione asked concernedly.

"No, but that was only just last night."

"Oh yeah… Seems longer, y'know?" Hermione responded.

"Yeah," Draco mumbled. Hermione beamed, he was smiling! Not smirking or sneering, actually smiling! "What?" Draco wondered.

"You're so cute when you smile." Hermione told him.

"Cute? Malfoys are not..._cute._" Draco scoffed, but Hermione saw through him.

"Yes you are!" She said and ruffled his hair affectionately. Draco's cheeks tinted pink and Hermione chuckled. "I suppose that Malfoys don't blush either."

Draco hid his face in the crook of her neck. "Malfoys don't apologize either. Malfoys are always right, too. And they don't beg. And they certainly don't condone public displays of affection. Then again…Malfoys aren't Vampires." Draco said softly.

Hermione kissed the side of his head. "So? You're still a Malfoy. I was just teasing, Draco. Don't submit yourself to a silly stereotype. So you're a Vampire. You're still the same condescending, sarcastic–" Draco pulled away from Hermione ashamedly, but she stopped him and smiled. "–Intelligent, cunning, sweet-talking Draco that you always were. Well," Hermione granted. "You're even better looking these days."

Draco smiled at her and shook his head in awe. "I can't believe it."

"What?"

"You, me, this, us… You're better than I ever gave you credit for, and you're more than I deserve, but Merlin am I happy to have you."

Hermione craned her neck and tipped her mouth up to press a tender kiss to Draco's lips. She licked his lips and just as he went to open his mouth, she pulled away. His lips followed hers, but she removed herself from his arms. Grinning, she began to walk back up to the castle, her hips swaying torturously.

"Hey!" Draco called after her. "You just teased me!" Hermione flipped her hair over her shoulder and winked at him. "You can't do that and just walk away!"

"I believe I just did, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said sexily before turning away again and continuing up to the castle.

Draco gaped at her prowess before quickly recovering and fast walking [for Malfoys don't run if they don't have to] after her.


	8. Kisses and Classes: Part I

"Hermione, what the hell was that?" Ron seemed to have finally found a voice when he saw Hermione back at Gryffindor table for lunch.

"What was what?" Hermione said dreamily, thinking about the blond Adonis she had just left behind.

"Excuse me? Uhh, how about the way you went off to play partner with Malfoy… a civil Malfoy! What the bloody hell is going on with him anyway? It's just weird, he's not making fun of me anymore," Ron said somewhat disappointedly. "Not to mention whatever it was that was bothering you so much yesterday. You looked positively awful at breakfast and then in potions you seemed right as rain, come on, I may not be as smart as you, but I'm not stupid! What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione tried to calm her friend. "It's just a lot of things and something I want to tell you, but don't know if I can… please, try to understand, I know that you're concerned."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I…" she paused, looking for the right words. "The night of the welcoming feast I learned a few things that are totally going to change a lot of things. Not everything, I'm still the same Hermione and all, it's just that… well I can't rightly explain it yet, but I was really upset yesterday because I had it in my head that something I really want—and will always really want—I couldn't have."

"But—"

"No, Ron, I'm trying to give you the best explanation possible because you're my friend and I want to show you that everything is going to be okay. I just can't tell you everything yet and I'm asking you to be okay with that for now." Hermione asked, her eyes shining brightly. She was happy again, Ron couldn't deny that. Whatever had happened had obviously been mostly resolved and he wasn't going to take away her happiness.

"Okay." He replied mostly reluctant, but placed his hand on hers affectionately.

"Thank you!" Hermione murmured and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek and making him blush.

"As long as you're happy, Hermione."

"Oh, Ron, you just made me so happy."

Draco walked into the Great Hall a bit after Hermione, slipping in amongst the shadows to remain inconspicuous. He chanced a glance at the Gryffindor table, searching for his curly haired love. His eyes settled on her flushed face, she looked a little stressed and the Weasel was looking at her with a bit of an angered expression. Draco wanted to go over there and take care of her, set things straight with that red headed brute, but he knew that Hermione wouldn't want that, so he stayed out of it.

He watched as Hermione calmed him down and he seemed a little less hostile. Draco was about to go to his seat when he put his hand on hers. He tried to calm down; Hermione was just friends with him, after all. Hermione smiled at Ron, brighter than she ever smiled at Draco, and she hugged him—tightly…too tightly, in Draco's mind. He clenched his fists, wanting to look away at the scene, but not being able to. His rational mind said that she was just friends with him and that friends hug each other. How many times had Pansy hugged him like that? But the Vampire in him seemed to disagree. That was his mate, damn it, if anyone was going to touch her it would be him! Of course she could have friends and be affectionate with them, but she should be affectionate with him first!

So what, they had kissed only moments prior? That only made it worse. Draco's head was split in a civil war as part of him reasoned that their kiss only affirmed that she wasn't interested in Ron that way, while another—stronger—part of him said that it only made it a more painful betrayal. Who was Ronald Weasley to put his hand on his Hermione? Who was his Hermione to be kissing other men!

It was just on the cheek, though; Pansy had kissed him on the cheek plenty of times—even Blaise had! But Draco couldn't listen to reason. He was a young Vampire, she knew this! She should know that this sort of thing wouldn't sit well with him while he couldn't control his emotions very well! And yet she still did it! Reason went out the window and Draco found himself strolling over to the two happy Gryffindors with intent to kill written in his eyes.

"Oh, Ron, you just made me so happy!" Draco heard Hermione profess and his jealousy flared. His eyes turned dark and stormy as his emotions showed more and more.

"I'll always try to make you happy, Hermione." Ron said sweetly and kissed Hermione's cheek. The next thing Draco knew he was standing behind Ron with his incisors at full length, his platinum hair whipping around him as his emotions rolled off of him in waves. He bit down on his lip and clenched his hands into fists, digging his sharp nails into his skin hard enough to draw blood.

"Draco!" Hermione said in surprise when she saw the infuriated Vampire behind her red headed friend. She paled and jumped up, forcing him to look at only her.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron exclaimed incredibly confused as to why his friend, who had been laughing a moment ago, was now engaged in what looked like a staring contest with what must have been a really pissed off Malfoy.

"Nothing," Hermione replied quickly, turning around and hoping to Merlin that Draco kept his eyes downcast. She felt his fingers tighten around hers as she talked to Ron.

"I just need to go have a word with Draco about our project for Care of Magical Creatures, I'll be back, I promise." Hermione said and was whisked away by Draco the minute she finished.

Draco could hear her speaking to Ron and he didn't like it. Why wasn't she speaking to him? He realized she was trying to make an excuse as to why she was going off with him. He suddenly felt bad that he was creating such a scene, but when the image of Ron kissing her cheek fluttered into his mind again, he gripped her hand a little tighter and the second she had gotten the last word out of her mouth he carried her off.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Hermione asked, the minute they were out of the Great Hall. Draco took them to a secluded corner that was thrown into shadow by a huge statue of Agrippa.

Draco was panting, trying to keep his temper down as he dealt with his mate. He gave her a pained expression and looked deeply into her eyes, trying to tell her what he couldn't bring himself to say.

Hermione bit her bottom lip when she noticed the onyx coloring Draco's eyes had adopted. "I thought you weren't that thirsty." She nearly whispered.

"I'm not." Draco said with effort. "I… I can't stand to see you and Weasley like that." He said finally, trying not to sound too angry with her.

"Like what?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"Come on, Hermione! Think about it!" Draco said, starting to lose it. "It might not seem like a big deal to you, but I'm a young Vampire, damn it! I can't control myself when I see you hugging him and kissing him and letting him touch you like that, no! I can't condone that!" Draco tried to get a hold on his emotions again, but he had let go of the reins to a wild creature that did not want to be calmed.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Hermione said knowing it wouldn't be enough, but still hoping that somehow it would be.

"I don't like people being that close to you!" Draco hissed, his face turned away and a tear tracking down his face as he tried and failed miserably to keep the words from sounding so harsh. Hermione saw the war going on inside of Draco and reached her arms up to hook around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Please forgive me, Draco. I didn't mean to upset you."

Draco nodded weakly against her hair, dragging the soothing scent of his mate into his empty lungs. "Hermione… I'm sorry." He breathed.

"It's okay, Draco, I should have known to watch it, I just wasn't thinking," the brunette assured him, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly.

Insecurely, Draco searched for her lips with his own, needing the assurance of physical contact. She tipped her chin up to meet his mouth halfway. Instantly, Draco felt better. He licked her lips with his tongue and she opened her mouth for him, heat coursing through her as she felt the effects of more and more of Draco's Vampire allure seeping off of him unintentionally. Draco nibbled her bottom lip appreciatively, careful to keep his incisors from nicking the tender skin.

Hermione pressed herself against Draco insistently and when he only continued to kiss her instead of giving her more, she whimpered. Draco's hands gripped her hips more firmly as the sound she made went straight to his groin. If she only knew how little she had to do to get him started. It was practically torture! But Hermione felt exactly the same. She skimmed her hand down and pressed it against the skin just above his low-slung trousers. Draco felt her fingers against his skin, so close to where he could only imagine them going and lost control.

Hermione gave a small cry of pain and triumph as she felt herself shoved roughly against the wall with Draco's mouth devouring hers and his hands—oh his hands, everywhere on her body and yet nowhere. They roamed everywhere, along her arms and neck and stomach and legs, but nowhere because they never were where she wanted them!

"Draco!" She groaned softly. He smirked at her and lowered his head to her neck, nipping at her earlobe teasingly. "Please, Draco," Hermione begged, though she wasn't quite sure just what she was begging for.

"And what if someone were to come by and see us two in such a compromising position?" Draco murmured sexily in her ear, his voice dripping with allure. He smiled triumphantly when he heard Hermione whisper the spell for a notice-me-not charm.

"You're so smart," he praised her, but she only dropped her wand and pushed her hands further up his shirt and against his skin, distracting him.

"Silencio," Draco barely managed to get out before he ravaged his mate's lips again. Hermione moaned freely against his lips when she felt his long fingers sliding up her skirt. Draco let his hand run across her abdomen and felt the thin cotton fabric of her panties.

"May I?" Draco asked quietly, not wanting to cross any boundaries. Hermione only nodded fervently, and arched into his touch expectantly. She melted against him when his fingers brushed against her clit outside her cursed underwear. She craned her neck and latched onto Draco's skin just below his earlobe, biting down roughly. His hand pressed harder against her and she bit him again, pausing to lick slowly from his collarbone to his neck, swirling her tongue over his jugular on the way. Draco shuddered against her and rubbed faster, more insistently than before, mirroring Hermione's growing lust.

Hermione nipped at his skin and let her hands trail over his chest where she could reach him. She was driving him mad with her ministrations, those hot, slender fingers mapping out his skin. He groaned and pushed her panties to one side so as to slip one long, pale digit into her. She gave a cry of rapture in response and Draco sunk another finger into her. She was hot and wet around his fingers and he wondered how good it would feel to have his cock inside her, enveloped in that heat as it pressed in around him when she climaxed.

Painfully hard, Draco dropped his mouth to Hermione's neck and her head leaned back to give him more room. He licked at the skin, awfully tempted to bite into her and taste her blood, but he feared what he would do to her if he did. To distract himself from his raging desire he nuzzled the pale flesh of Hermione's chest. Her blouse was pulled taught against her supple breasts and Draco kissed the delectable skin. He sucked on the skin eagerly, hoping he would make a respectable mark; he wanted everyone to know Hermione was his. Hermione pressed against Draco's hand adamantly and he thrust in and curled them up just a bit, reaching her sweet spot.

"Oh my God!" Hermione cried, fisting her hands in Draco's hair. She dragged his face to hers to kiss him again. His breath was hot against her face and his fingers were pushing fire through her body. She felt her orgasm building as he pumped his hand into her, making her wonder what it would feel like to have his cock inside her instead.

"Faster," Hermione nearly sobbed against Draco's lips, overwhelmed by all the feelings coursing through her. She pushed her hips down roughly to meet his fingers for every stroke. Draco was beckoning sounds from her throat that expressed her pleasure, though she doubted that she could really ever express it in truth. It was just too much to convey, so much she didn't even know she could feel. Draco was driving her mad, his fingers ramming into her heat, his lips against hers, his tongue in her mouth teasing her own; Hermione couldn't breathe!

Hermione gasped for breath as her climax washed over and Draco milked her for everything she was worth. He held her in his arms as she shuddered with her release, her juices running down Draco's hand as he finished her. She rested her head against his shoulder, trying to catch her breath.

Draco had never seen a more beautiful sight than what was presented with him when he watched Hermione climax. The expression on her face when her orgasm—the orgasm he had caused—hit her finally was one of complete joy and ecstasy. It was the kind of expression he wanted to see again and again. All too soon the moment had passed and Hermione was trying to get air back into her lungs. Draco lifted his hand up to his face, wondering how Mother Nature had managed to create such a wondrous scent and sucked his fingers clean. God, she tasted wonderful. Her blood was better—and yeah, he probably wouldn't want to drink it for breakfast every day for the rest of his life—but it was her, it was evidence of what he had made her feel and that made it the most wonderful thing he knew—besides Hermione, of course.

"Fuck, Draco." Hermione murmured, her body still adorably limp against him.

"Language, Miss Granger?" Draco mock chastised.

"I think after experiencing something like that, I'm allowed to use a bit profanity." Hermione retorted.

"Is that implying you didn't enjoy it?" Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow. He could see right through Hermione's sardonic tone.

"I've never enjoyed anything more." Hermione murmured against Draco's lips before giving him a thank-you-kiss.

"We should stop. I need to stop." Draco said reluctantly.

"What? Why?" Hermione nearly whined, but managed to control her pathetic tone.

"I… If we… I don't know how much longer I can control myself. I have you now and my Vampire is telling me to take you and make you mine… permanently." Draco explained. "I want to wait; I want it to be special for you; I want to give you time to adjust to all this. We've rushed into a lot and I don't want you to feel pressured."

Hermione politely detached herself from Draco, picking up her wand and performing a quick scourgify and then quickly grabbing Draco's hand back to feel some of his skin against hers.

"I don't feel like we rushed, you know." Hermione said. Draco looked at her wide-eyed and she laughed. "I know that it was out of the blue and that by any other standards, we definitely rushed, but we aren't to be held by any other standards are we? I mean, it's not like you're any other normal guy, you're a Vampire and I'm your mate. That means we were meant to be together. And yeah, maybe I haven't come to love you yet, but there's time for that. And when it does happen, I'll be able to say I love you because of who we are, not what we are. I may not have liked you before, but I never got to see this side of you. I'm glad that you turned out to be a Vampire."

Draco couldn't help it; he beamed like a child that just got a pony for Christmas. He picked her up and swung her around in the corridor, making her giggle happily. It was like a scene you would expect to see in some fairy tale, only it was real! She was there, in his arms, and she was his! Draco set her down in their hidden space and kissed her blissfully. Everything was so… perfect! Ha! Perfect! Draco Malfoy's life—perfect! He leaned his head back and laughed at the irony of it all. Hermione looked up at him in wonder and complete adoration as she heard his laugh. He was so beautiful.

"What?" he asked her, still smiling. She couldn't help but smile back.

"Nothing, you just… you should smile more often. It suits you."

"Malfoys don't smile," Draco replied, but his only grew, making her laugh.

"Malfoys don't kiss mudbloods in deserted corridors." Hermione shot back.

"Mudbloods don't kiss Malfoys." Draco parried.

"Mudbloods don't curse Malfoys either."

"When have I ever—" Draco bit his tongue and didn't finish his sentence, turning a nice shade of pink instead.

Hermione laughed and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately. "Don't worry about it. It was a joke. We've been over this whole stereotyping thing before, Draco. Don't be so tense."

"I'm not tense," Draco defended. "I'm just…"

"High strung?"

"No."

"Uptight?"

"No."

"On edge?"

"No!"

"Well that leaves only one other explanation…" Hermione trailed off, her voice hinting at something that promised a distasteful innuendo.

"And what is that, pray tell?"

"You're unsatisfied." Hermione said with a smirk.

"With what?" Draco asked said nothing, only skimming her hand over the front of Draco's trousers where his prominent erection was still rather noticeable.

"Oh," Draco said, but it sounded more like a moan than a statement.

"Do you want me to help you relax?" Hermione purred.

"I—mnnnn—" Draco took an unnecessary breath as Hermione gripped him through the cloth of his pants. "I don't know if I could control myself." Draco admitted.

"Control yourself for what?"

"I could—ah, fuck—I could…hurt you…I could take more than you were willing to give…" Draco bit out.

"Just let me give you what you gave to me," Hermione asked. "Please?" She accentuated her request by rubbing her thumb over the head of his throbbing cock. His pants were now getting incredibly uncomfortable and he couldn't say no to his mate.

Numbly, Draco nodded and let Hermione switch their roles with him pressed against the wall this time. She was not experienced and she was not sure of what she was doing, but she was touching him and he was already half way gone from what she had put him through before. He placed his hand reassuringly over hers and showed her how he liked it. Before long he was calling out her name in ecstasy as she finished him off and he spilled himself into her hand. She grinned when she realized it was her turn to taste him. She licked his cum off of her index and middle fingers before he spelled the rest away for her.

"You're amazing." He murmured against her lips as he kissed her in thanks.

"You're superlative." Hermione responded.

"Damn, your word was better than mine." Draco cursed.

"I win." Hermione said triumphantly.

Draco smiled again, that priceless smile and he hugged her tightly again. She giggled before she suddenly seemed to realize something and her mouth formed a small o.

"What is it, luv?" Draco wondered as soon as the bright smile left her face.

"I have no classes left today! I had them all back to back this morning!"

"So?"

"That means…" Hermione blushed. "I'll get to spend the rest of the day with you…"

Draco smiled and stroked her flushed cheek. "That would be lovely, but I still have a few more classes today."

"Oh? And that would be?"

"I've got private study with Professor Snape, learning how to handle being a Vampire and all…He wants to help me learn how to use my power before the school year gets started because then he won't have time for it. We've really only got today and whatever other time we can scrape up." Draco said quietly.

"Oh, so... when will you be done?" Hermione asked.

"I can't be sure, but probably not until tonight."

"That long?"

"Yeah..."

"Could I—" Hermione cut herself off and shook her head as if what she had wanted to say was stupid.

"What?"

"Could I watch?"

"Why would you want to watch that?" Draco asked in surprise.

"You…well, I…" Hermione turned a very deep red.

"You're very adorable when you blush, you know. Come on, out with it."

"You're beautiful when you use your full power." Hermione admitted.

"Beautiful?" Draco inquired.

"Yes. Beautiful."

Draco nodded in acceptance and smiled at her again. Hermione was beginning to love those smiles.

"Well, maybe you can. We'll have to have a talk with Severus… He'll probably have to know about us, which brings me to a confession…"

"He already knows. I told him." Hermione said.

"No you didn't, I did." Draco said, confused.

"No, I did."

"Credit for telling Snape goes to moi."

"No, I definitely was the one to break it to him! You can't take credit for this; that would be unfair!" Hermione told him.

Draco sneered, "It's my fault he knows, deal with it!"

"No! It's so my fault!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"I don't believe you."

"Well... you ought to!"

"Make me!"

"Fine!" Hermione kissed him fiercely, practically raping his mouth before Draco growled and dominated her. She gave a small submissive noise and Draco wanted to scoop her up in his arms and never let her go.

"I talked to Dumbledore today." Draco said as they began walking back towards the Great Hall.

"Oh?" Hermione swung their clasped hands between them.

"Yeah. He knows that I've found my mate, but he doesn't know it's you. I didn't know what you would want or be willing to deal with if you ever came to terms with being my mate so I just warned him that there were going to be a lot of things happening and he basically approved." Draco said awkwardly.

"Oh… umm… so what does that mean?" Hermione wondered.

"Well… I could get my schedule switched to match yours, so I can see you more often… There is another option though… I mean, we don't have to consider it yet if you don't want, I guess it would be a little soon and you probably would prefer—"

"Draco, what is it?"

"Sorry. Well… By Vampire Law technically I don't have to ask you, but I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do so I'm definitely just throwing an idea out there—"

"Draco!"

"We could share rooms!" Draco blurted. Hermione was shocked at his sudden exclamation and didn't respond.

"I'm sorry," Draco said when he took her silence as a rejection of the idea. "I wouldn't expect you to want to—"

"Oh, sorry, you wanted an answer…" Hermione interrupted him.

"Yes, usually an answer or some sort of reply is in order when someone says something like that."

"If we did… share rooms, I mean… I would get to see you when I woke up… I could see you when I went to sleep… I could go to breakfast with you, do my homework with you… We do have to take care of that Gnargle, don't we? Oh fuck, THE GNARGLE!"

Draco laughed as he watched Hermione's sudden horrific realization that she had left her baby Gnargle with the one and only Ronald Weasley at the Gryffindor table.

"Relax, luv, I'm sure that Ron realized you weren't going back and took the little creature off with him, if he even left yet."

"Oh. Right. Okay… Well then we have to go get it from him, but first maybe we should go to our respective heads of house to get that pass for shared rooms."

"You'll do it?" Draco asked happily.

"Well of course, I mean, I did say I would share them anyway—for the project and all… Why not make it permanent?"

"Oh, my Hermione," Draco said, whisking her off her feet and twirling her round, making her giggle in that cute way that he knew she would. "You do not know what you do to me!"

"Of course I do, Draco. You do the same for me."

They kissed, sweetly and tenderly, savoring the moment, never wanting it to end. They broke apart finally when air became absolutely necessary; their foreheads still that moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

And then a voice from their left reached them, causing them to whip around. "Hermione?" called a young man with black lining his eyelids and snake bite piercings in his lips.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.


	9. Kisses and Classes: Part II

She looked from her perplexed friend to her lover—who wore a simple look of amusement on his face.

"Uhh…hey? Didn't know you snogged Slytherins," Harry said ironically. "Especially not Malfoys…not that I'm complaining…"

"Harry I—" Hermione was interrupted by Draco who let his arm come away from her for a moment to extend to Harry.

"Maybe this is the reason you took that extra smoke." Draco volunteered.

"Yeah…maybe." Harry agreed taking Draco's hand and shaking it. By this point, Hermione was rather confused at their exchange.

"So…this is okay with you, Harry?" she asked hesitantly, now acutely aware of the fact that she was still incredibly close to the Vampire who wasn't keen on letting her go any time soon.

"I just want to know why…I mean two days ago you hated each other…You could be under Imperius, or possessed or…something." Harry said with a small smile. He knew that Hermione was too smart to get herself into those situations, but it was possible and what kind of friend would he be if he didn't at least check?

Hermione looked back to Draco concernedly. "Is it okay if I tell him about you? I know it's dangerous for more people than necessary to know…but he is Voldemort's adversary, so it's not like he's going to go telling everyone…"

"He's your friend." Draco responded. "He should know about who it is you're kissing in deserted hallways, I suppose." he finished with a smirk and Hermione kissed him happily in reward.

"Hello? Still here…" Harry interjected.

"Sorry, Harry—it's just that if I told you what was really going on…well I just needed permission before saying anything."

"Permission?"

"Well it wasn't my secret to tell." Hermione explained. "See… the short version, umm, I guess… well, I mean… umm…"

"I'm a Vampire." Draco said plainly, wrapping his arms back around Hermione consolingly. "I am a Vampire and Hermione is my mate."

"Oh… Vampires have mates? What's the point of that? Aren't they like… dead?"

"We are the living dead, Potter. We function as the dead do, silent and cold, but we have the same functions as living people. I have a heartbeat even, but I need to drink blood regularly to maintain the natural chemistry that keeps me functioning and allows me to heal myself."

"Oh…then I guess it makes sense for you to have mates and all that." Harry shrugged.

"I think I would have found Hermione anyways." Draco admitted, shocked that he allowed Potter that information. Still, the smile on Hermione's face made it sort of worth it.

"Okay… does Ron know?" Harry wondered.

"Sort of… I mean, he saw me with Draco in Care of Magical Creatures…"

"I saw you—I didn't think you were with him…"

"Yeah but… well… you were sort of involved with Luna…" Hermione pointed out.

"We were just talking…"

"What was that anyway?"

"Nothing, just discussing what will happen when we share rooms. She's the only person I can talk to about..." Harry paused and looked at Draco uncomfortably, "about things..." Harry replied.

"Oh, you guys are sharing rooms too?" Draco mused.

"Erm yeah…" Harry said awkwardly.

"Gryffindor tower will be rather empty I suppose." the Slytherin said.

"I guess you guys are sharing rooms then? I didn't think you even took that class…" Harry said.

"I don't." Draco said point-blankly.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Harry grinned. "Wow, Hermione. You tamed a dragon in one day!" Harry made a whip sound mockingly.

"I resent that." Draco said as Hermione giggled.

"Oh hush you," she said and kissed him. "If he wants to think of it that way it's better for him. He doesn't need to know about your dominating nature and how much I love it." Hermione murmured into his ear sexily, making him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Hermione…" Draco fought to control his voice.

"Yes, Draco?" She practically purred, her breath sliding hotly over his cool skin.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Umm, well I've got to be off now… I'll just leave you two alone…"

As she listened to her friend's fading footsteps, Hermione laughed softly, the sound cascading over Draco like a warm shower and making his hold on her a little tighter.

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Draco groaned, burying his nose in her hair.

"I think I have a pretty good idea…" Hermione replied mischievously as she stood on her tiptoes and leaned her mouth up to meet Draco's neck. She pressed an innocent kiss to the skin there, lingering for a moment to properly torture him. The Vampire groaned, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"Stop."

"Do you really want me to stop?"

"No…" Draco admitted. "But you want you to stop… You're not thinking straight…it's just my Vampire allure. I can't control it, my Vampire really does want you—but I…"

"What?" Hermione prompted.

"I don't want to make you feel like you were forced." Draco said.

"Mmm… I get that… But you really are so… warm." Hermione sighed happily, snuggling further into Draco's chest. Draco swallowed the whimper that rose in his throat when she accidentally brushed herself against his growing erection.

"We only just started all this." Draco said, more to himself than Hermione.

"But we were always meant for each other." Hermione pointed out smartly.

"But—you feel," Draco swallowed, trying to keep the Vampire at bay. "—you feel obligated… I'm just… hungry." Hermione smiled when she heard the change in the tone of his voice.

"Really?" she asked, mock innocently. "You are a growing boy, aren't you? Growing boys need their proper nourishment."

Draco wasn't really listening to her. He could only think of the delicious blood that waited just beneath that pale skin.

"Mione…" he mumbled, leaning his head down to nuzzle her jugular with his nose.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, pressing herself more insistently against her lover. Draco dragged her scent into his lungs, but something wasn't right with it… She hadn't eaten enough today. He could wait. He couldn't drink from her now. She'd be too weak and he could never harm her. Draco kissed the skin appreciatively and then stepped away from her.

"Come on." He said and tugged on her hand to lead her away.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked, somewhat dejectedly. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Aren't you?" Draco parried.

"Well, I thought …"

"I can't harm you. You have to eat before I do. That's how my Vampire wants it." Draco said. "Don't worry, you'll get a proper ravishing later," he promised with a rueful grin and Hermione punched him playfully in the arm.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his arm as though it hurt him.

"Stop making it sound like I'm some randy teen." Hermione said.

"You are some randy teen." Draco pointed out. Hermione scoffed at him. "Not that I mind." He admitted. "I mean, you sort of held it in for all these years and now look, you have your own personal sex outlet."

Hermione threw up her hands and walked away from him. "You're ridiculous!" she cried.

"You love it." he said when he had caught her up after just a few moments.

"So?" Hermione said stubbornly, though a smile was still plastered to her face.

Draco grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers. "You can't outrun a Vampire."

"I can try."

"You'll fail." Draco smirked and Hermione tried to pout, but being near Draco made it nearly impossible for her to do anything but smile idiotically.

"So?"

Draco laughed. "I love that you're stubborn. It's cute." Hermione rolled her eyes and made to walk on, but Draco stayed behind. "I'm not sure I should go in with you, you still need to talk to Ron, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well… have fun with that!" Draco said brightly before he stole a chaste kiss and ran off yelling, "Meet me in the dungeons!" Hermione scowled after him. He had just been there, scant two seconds ago and he was already gone. Damn that Vampire speed!

Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Ron, steeling herself for what was sure to follow. No doubt, Ron would not like this news and he would make sure that Hermione knew that. He would probably give her an ultimatum—him or Draco… Hermione felt her heart sink as she the knowledge that she would pick Draco in an instant overcame her. With her brows furrowed and her heart racing, Hermione turned to face her friend.

"Ron, I have something to tell you…" She started.

"Hm?" The red head turned his head to face her, a piece of chicken hanging from his mouth and what could have been some sort of sauce or glaze covering his chin.

"Erm…Ron, you have something on your chin." Hermione said awkwardly. He blushed and wiped himself off with a nearby napkin.

"Sorry…" he mumbled.

"Hungry?" Hermione raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"A little bit." Ron replied with a sneer. "So, what have you got to tell me? And before you start, would this have anything to do, perchance, with a certain Malfoy and yourself and what happened this morning?"

"Umm, actually it does." Hermione admitted. "See…I guess first thing you should know…I'm sort of…datingDracoMalfoy."

Ron's facial expression remained static as he chewed another huge bite of his sandwich. Fearing that he hadn't heard her, Hermione repeated herself. "Ron, I'm dating Draco."

"I heard you." Ron acknowledged.

"And…well…does this mean you're okay with that?" Hermione flinched, fearing the worst.

Ron finally put his full gaze on her. His eyes were calculative, as though he was trying to make a big decision. At last he shrugged and turned back to his food. "He has herpes."

"He does not!" Hermione protested. Ron only grinned at her and she smacked his arm. "So you're okay with this, then?" Hermione asked again, just making sure.

"Well, you know I think he's a slimy git, but if you wanna get hepatitis… yeah, I'm okay. I'm confused as to why, but it's not like I can really change anything now. Besides, he was practically civil to me this morning."

"OH RON, THANK YOU!" Hermione glanced around to make sure there would be no interventions from a jealous Vampire before throwing her arms around her friend.

"So tell me, what's got you risking venereal disease?" Ron wondered with a smirk.

"This is the part that I really need you to be careful with, you really can't tell anyone about this." Hermione warned.

"Alright… so spill."

"Draco isn't exactly human."

"How is someone 'not exactly human'? They're either human or not, aren't they?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. Draco is a Vampire." Hermione admitted. "And I am his mate." Ron didn't miss the slight tone of pride in her voice when she said that.

"…Explains a lot…"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Am I supposed to say something else?"

"No, I just… I thought you would fly off the handle over this."

"Like I said, 'Mione, if you don't mind risking your health, I'm okay with it." Ron winked at her and turned his full attention back to his lunch.

"Have you seen Harry?" the brunette inquired over lunch.

"Yeah, he popped in, grabbed a huge slice of honeydew melon and popped back out—said something about having a private lesson." Ron replied in a low voice.

"Oh, that's intriguing. Didn't know Dumbledore was picking up his lessons with Harry. What's left for him to learn anyway?" Hermione mused, already three-quarters of the way through her sandwich.

"Dunno. To be honest—it could be a lie. He's slips off to smoke a lot. Over the summer he stayed at the Burrow, picked up the habit from Bill."

"Do you think he's okay?" Hermione asked with concern. They both had been there for Harry through times that weren't just "bad". That was before the piercings and morbid clothes.

"Actually I think he's the happiest I've ever seen him. That's what's weird about it. Back when Harry was goin down, he looked normal. Now, with his new look and all, he looks seriously troubled, but I KNOW he isn't. I even heard him singing in the shower this morning."

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

"Well," Hermione sighed. "We'll see, I guess." Hermione picked up her Gnargle's cage, and stood, the anticipation of seeing Draco was already knotting in her stomach. It was going to be a long several hours. It was just after lunch and Draco said he wouldn't be done until that night. She kissed the top of Ron's head and said 'bye' quickly over her shoulder as she bustled off, wondering what the hell she would do until night time.

...

Draco smelled her before he even heard her footsteps. His eyes turned a dark, steely grey with hunger. "Draco! Concentrate!" Snape called. Their session had begun—literally—the second he had entered the room. Draco had been deprived of his wand and spells were being hurled at him from an unknown source.

Draco had overturned the nearest desk and ducked behind it. He placed a shield charm on it so that it wouldn't splinter if it was hit. Wandlessly, he had fended off his unknown attacker and in about 20 minutes he had gotten them onto the floor in front of him, bound in ropes. That's when he smelled Hermione. In the mere moments he had been distracted, his attacker had gotten free and now he was battling the man again. _'Damn, I can't concentrate when I'm hungry…_

_**"Reducto!"**_

_…She's getting closer…_

_**"Impedimenta!"**_

_…She's happy…_

_**"Stupefy!"**_

_…She smells delicious…_

**_"Densaugeo!"_**

_…oh, Merlin, she's at the door…_

Draco whimpered and drew his wings around him.

"Draco?" Oh, her voice, that voice. She knelt beside him and put a hand on his wing which drew back immediately to reveal her mate. "What's wrong?"

Draco was using every ounce of strength he had to restrain himself from drinking from his mate. When at last he had gotten control of his vocal chords he choked out, "Hungry."

"Oh." Hermione blushed at the thought of allowing Draco to drink from her in front of others.

"Yeah." Draco agreed, sensing her emotion.

"…Would you like me to leave?"

"No!"

"Okay, okay. Can you stand?"

"Yes." Draco contracted his wings a bit to stand at his full, rather imposing, height.

"As interesting as I'm sure it is, I really don't quite see the reason for Miss Granger's presence here." Snape interjected.

"She belongs here," Draco growled, still trying to reign in his Vampire.

"Are you bipolar, or something? You were fine a few seconds ago…" Draco's attacker spoke up.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I told Ron I had a private lesson." Harry said simply.

"I assumed it would be with Dumbledore, though."

Snape scoffed. "What else is there for the old man to teach him?" Hermione was shocked, to say the least, to hear her professor speak of the headmaster in such a way. "Excuse me, Miss Granger. I respect Dumbledore, he is a great and powerful man…but he is a bit senile these days."

"Ah yes, I've noticed that… He keeps wandering the corridors muttering, 'Gotta catch 'em all!' and 'Go, charzar, go!'" Hermione giggled.

"No way!" Harry laughed. "Are you serious?"

"It's sadly true, Mr. Potter. No one in the castle seems to know what's wrong with him." Snape sneered.

"Oh, this is too good. We're at war and Dumbledore is addicted to Pokemon."

"Harry, I hardly think that the headmaster's obsession is healthy at his age…" Hermione admonished.

"Aww, you're never too old for videogames." Harry retorted.

"Poke-what? Is Dumbledore on some sort of drug?" Snape asked.

"No, it's a videogame." Hermione explained.

"A what?"

"Ugh, an electronic muggle game!" Hermione said exasperatedly in response to Snape's rude tone.

"Shhhh, don't get angry…Merlin, please, don't do anything. Stay calm." Draco said, surprising everyone with the first words he'd said in awhile.

"Keep your heart rate down." Draco told her—though it sounded more like he was pleading. His eyes were closed, seemingly in concentration, and his brow was furrowed deeply with worry.

"Mr. Malfoy, do explain this spectacle you are making of yourself." commanded Snape.

"I'm…" Draco gulped. "Hungry."

"Then drink, will you? You have your mate right here. If that was the purpose of her interrupting our lesson then get it over with and let us resume our work!"

"Um, professor, I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable with that." Hermione said as she blushed with embarrassment at the thought.

"Hermione," Draco growled. Her heart rate was getting faster and the sound of that delectable blood rushing through her veins was ringing in his ears. Hermione was shocked to see her mate's eyes were no longer the steely grey that they were usually—rather a deep, consuming black that appeared to burn with an inexplicable intensity. His hand shot out and gripped her arm. His grasp was not bruising, but it was not gentle.

"I'm sorry." Draco murmured before he pulled Hermione to him and imprinted his hard frame on her. His allure ensnared her instantly and without protest, she bared her neck for him. Snarling wildly as the smell of her blood hit him, Draco did not hesitate, he did not pause, he brought his mouth down to her neck and sank his fangs into her carotid artery.

Hermione gasped at the feeling. This was not the same as before, this was neither gentle nor curious. This was hot and demanding and passionate, driven on by a deep seeded hunger, a lust for her blood. Draco groaned unabashedly at the taste of his Hermione on his tongue. He drank like a starved man, his arms crushing his mate to him. He heard Hermione gasping for breath, moaning with ecstasy; he felt her hands clutching his robes desperately and her body calling out for his. He whimpered as she frotted against him. Oh she was delicious…

Draco pulled away, savoring every last drop and licking the wound clean to close it. "I'm sorry, I know you would have preferred to keep that private." he apologized.

"It's okay." Hermione slurred deliriously, still under his allure.

"Whoa." Harry said breaking the silence that had fallen around them. "That was fucking hot."

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I trust that I will never see that again."

"Don't worry, Sev' ol' pal. I wouldn't have done it in the first place if I had been able to control myself." The blond grinned ruefully and loosened his grip on Hermione who was still practically purring in his arms.

"Now if you would please send Miss Granger away, I believe we have work to continue."

"Can I watch?" Hermione asked eagerly, her eyes wide with hope and excitement.

"You will only serve to distract him." Harry said gently. "He needs to train, you'll have to see him later. Sorry, 'Mione." Harry gave her a look that told her he was sincere.

"Alright." Hermione agreed reluctantly. Draco smiled at her comfortingly and kissed her tenderly.

"I'll come find you tonight." He promised.

"You better."

"Go, now, before you make Snape go ape-shit."

"I can't wait for tonight." Hermione kissed him again before rushing from the room.


	10. Take the Plunge, Take the MarkPart One

"Alright, Draco, that's good for today." Snape said, ending the deadlock his students were in. Draco was breathing hard and sweat was dripping from Harry's forehead; both were grateful for the promise of rest. It was probably around eight o'clock at night and Draco was looking forward to sniffing out his mate and perhaps even partaking in a late-night snack.

"Here, Draco," the potions master handed the blond a small vial filled with a red liquid. "Drink this."

"What is it?"

"It's similar to the blood replenishers that humans drink. I have added some of Hermione's blood that I took without her knowing. This potion was to be in case she did not want you to drink from her. Still, you're going to need more than she can give some days so it's better that I made this."

Draco snarled dangerously. "You took blood from my mate without her consent?"

Snape paled, but his face gave away no true expression. "I was not aware she was your mate at the time. She has type O blood—that is a universal donor and the most beneficial to a Vampire. I didn't know if you had any blood donors lined up and in the absence of a mate, this potion would have been extremely useful. When I stumbled upon the perfect blood type for it, I did not hesitate. She had an accident slicing boomslang skin in the lab. I merely saved what was left of the cleanup."

The Vampire did not appear satisfied at Snape's explanation and Harry, sensing this, decided to intervene. "I'm sure Hermione would be okay with this, Draco. She'd do anything to help you. You should drink it. It will make you feel better and give you a bit more strength."

Draco seemed to accept this and drank the potion. It was almost as good as the real thing! "How much more of this do you have?"

Snape smirked in satisfaction. "I have enough. I can give you the recipe however, and you can brew it yourself. You are quite adept at potions, after all."

The Malfoy heir nodded and carded his fingers through his trademark hair. He straightened his robes and retied his tie before deciding that he was presentable. "Have a good evening, gentlemen. I take my leave of you." He said formally.

_"What the hell is going on here?"_ A voice sounded from the other room.

_"What are **you **doing here?"_

_"What am **I** doing here? What are **you **doing here?"_

_"**I** happen to be friends with Severus Snape!"_

_"Yes, well **I** am—"_

Snape burst into his quarters before his lover could finish that sentence. Draco was right on his heels and Harry was not far behind.

"Father?"

"Remus?"

"Severus!"

"Draco!"

"….Harry?"

"What are you doing here, father?" Draco asked the tall man who he assumed had just stepped out of the fireplace.

"I am here for you. What is he doing here?" Lucius pointed rudely at the Werewolf.

"He is my mate, Lucius, and you will call him Remus." Snape hissed. Remus' arms wrapped around Severus' waist comfortingly.

"Shh, take it easy," the Werewolf mumbled into his ear to make his mate relax.

"I have nothing against Werewolves, Severus, but…" Lucius stammered. "Werewolves are all…dominant," he finished with a slightly disgusted expression.

The room was deadly silent… Draco vaguely thought he might have been able to cut the tension in the air with a knife. And then Harry, disrupting the silence, exclaimed, "Oh my god!…Remus is buggering Snape?"

Remus erupted in laughter. "Always eloquent, aren't we, Harry?"

"I was shocked is all. It's not every day one hears Severus Snape admitting submission to someone." Harry said.

"Really? I hear it every night." Remus winked.

"Remus!" Snape chided.

"What?" The defendant held up his hands as if to say, "My hands are clean, I'm innocent!" Severus still cuffed him on the back of his head.

"You know I love it when you're rough with me!" Remus said impertinently.

"Hush, wolf!" Severus commanded and no one missed the slight flush in the potions master's cheeks. Even Draco was holding his sides as he cracked up laughing.

Lucius looked around at the merry faces and was filled with sorrow. His best friend was finally in love, albeit with a Werewolf—that would certainly take some getting used to. His son was happy, quite obviously so. Lucius' heart wanted to break at the sound of Draco's carefree laughter—a sound that from now on would be seldom heard.

"Father?" Draco touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

There was a long pause where Lucius' response should have been. Harry looked around and, realizing that the older man didn't have the words, spoke up. "No." Harry said, locking eyes with Lucius. "He has come with bad news..." Harry paused, as though searching for something, "and he is regretful that he must deliver it because he knows it will make everyone sad."

"What makes you so sure, Potter?" Draco wondered.

"He is an empath." Lucius answered for The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I can sense it, Draco. I can sense others' powers." Lucius explained.

"Why didn't I know of this?"

"Well it doesn't exactly spring up in conversation, does it? I don't like to speak of it anyway. I don't like having that particular ability." Lucius admitted.

"Why not?" Remus inquired softly, genuinely curious, but fully aware that Lucius did not think he belonged with his best friend and may not begrudge him that information.

"It's why Voldemort made him his right hand." Snape said in a low voice when Lucius said nothing. "Knowing who to have on your side and how to take down those who aren't is something every tyrant wants."

"I'm sorry, father." Draco said.

"Don't be. I never wanted to join that monster, but I stayed for your safety. Now I have failed in that capacity."

"What are you talking about, Lucius?" Severus asked concernedly.

"Someone informed the Dark Lord as to Draco's…condition. He is angry that I did not tell him and he is furious that I have not offered Draco to him. If I want to keep Narcissa alive, I must…Draco, oh Draco, I'm so sorry."

Draco was stunned at the raw emotion that was present on his father's face. Those haunted eyes had become glassy even though Draco swore that Malfoys don't cry. "What, father? What must you do?"

Lucius was silent; he looked away, unable to meet Draco's gaze. He looked to Harry, knowing the Gryffindor would understand and the emerald eyes softened. "You have to take the Dark Mark, Draco." Harry said. "Or something to that affect. I'm not sure, but I feel pain…intolerable pain. That's simply the most painful thing I know from my visions." Harry's voice was quiet and foreboding, his words filling everyone with a deep sense of dread.

"Draco is too young to endure initiation." Snape said firmly. "He's not yet seventeen, there's no way Voldemort can be so evil."

"How young were we, Severus?" I was just a day over fifteen and if I recall…you were even a bit younger."

"We were volunteering, we didn't know what we were getting ourselves into. It was join or die, we didn't want to, but we would rather join him than die," parried Snape.

"And how is Draco's case different?"

"There is hope! Draco will be safe at Hogwarts!"

"Were we safe?" Lucius' eyes were dull and disparaged. "And could I keep my Narcissa any other way? If there was anything else I could do, don't you think I would have thought of it already? We only had ourselves to think of, I have Narcissa now! I don't know what I would do if…" his voice trailed off.

Lucius turned when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. Draco's eyes were a cold, steel grey. "It's alright, father. I know this isn't what you wanted. I will take the Mark."

"I'm so sorry, my son."

"I know." Father and son embraced then in what could have made a portrait beautiful enough to make a master cry.

"We must go now, Draco. The Dark Lord will not wait."

"Then let's get it over with." Draco said simply.

"Draco," Severus spoke up. "This will be the most painful and degrading experience of your life. It is meant to break you, in every possible way, and it will."

"Tell Hermione I'm sorry." Draco said before he stepped back into the green flames and disappeared with his father.

...

"Lucius," Voldemort hissed. "How good to see you, I see you have brought me a present."

"Indeed milord, I have considered my well deserved punishment and decided to attempt to make up for it by offering you what is dearest to me. I have brought you my son, Draco…the Vampire."

"Ah yes…Thank you, Lucius, for that. I should have had him earlier though, don't you agree?"

"Yes, milord."

"Then you agree, I must punish you."

"Yes milord." Lucius steeled himself for the Cruciatus that was inevitable in coming. Draco wanted desperately to do something, anything, but he knew he could not. He was helpless and resigned to kneel where he was with his head bowed, watching his father endure the Cruciatus without making a sound. The only tell tale sign that Lucius was at all in pain was the single tear that made it past his closed eyes to slip down to his clenched jaw.

Finally, Voldemort lifted his wand and Draco heard his father breathe in sharply. "I am satisfied, Lucius. You may stand now, you have redeemed yourself."

Draco heard the rustle of his father's robes as he stood next to his son's kneeling form. Voldemort's presence was chilling and having that mingled with the anxiety of knowing what was to come was driving Draco insane.

"Draco, raise your head please, I would like to have a look at you." Voldemort requested, though it was more of a command. Draco lifted his chin and kept his eyes respectfully on the floor.

"Ah yes, you and Narcissa have made a fine young man, Lucius."

"Thank you, milord."

"Tell me, Draco, why have you come here tonight?"

Draco gulped nervously. "To offer myself to the Dark Lord and to pledge my allegiance to him by taking the Dark Mark."

"Oh? That is interesting. And why would you want to pledge allegiance to me?"

"Because, milord," Draco paused. "I support your cause. I believe that service to you is the only way for me to live honorably." The blond could have heaved with the lies he was telling, but he knew that this was not even the beginning.

Voldemort rose from his large, obsidian throne and moved to Draco's side. His footsteps echoed off the high, barren walls of the large, dark room. His breath was warm and foul near Draco's ear as he bent down to speak to the inductee.

"And are you truly a Vampire, young Malfoy?"

"I was bitten over the summer; I am a hybrid." Draco lied.

"That's very interesting." Voldemort ran his fingers through the trademark blond hair that marked a Malfoy. He leaned down and inhaled the scent that lingered on the platinum locks. "I believe you will make a stunning addition to my ranks."

"Thank you, milord." Draco murmured.

"This will be a momentous occasion. I believe all of my inner circle should be here to witness this initiation." Draco heard the sharp intake of breath that Voldemort's suggestion elicited from his father. "Have you something to say, Lucius?"

"Only that I think that is a wonderful idea." Lucius lied smoothly.

"Excellent. Give me your arm." Lucius offered forth his left forearm and allowed the tip of an ivory wand to be pressed to the black brand that marred his skin. Pain radiated up his arm, throughout his body, but Lucius endured. The mark burned on his skin, turning a furious crimson, but Lucius gave no hint of pain.

At last the inner circle was all accounted for and Lucius was given back possession of his arm. Voldemort stepped forward to address his cloaked minions as they knelt before him in respect. Draco was still kneeling, concentrating on the floor in front of him, but he knew he was surrounded by dark wizards who were there to witness his humiliation. The entire inner circle… that meant that the parents of his friends—people he saw nearly every day some summers, were there to see his dignity stripped.

Crabbe and Goyle would be there—though they fathered some real goons, good for little more than a rousing game of quidditch, they were like uncles to Draco. Lucan and Isabella Zabini would be there—the loving parents of his best friend, Blaise. What would they say? He knew that they would be imagining what it would be like if it was Blaise going through it all instead of him. Rabastan and Rudolphus would be there-unwilling brother and husband to his sick aunt. They had always been more like brothers to Draco…they would be there to see him fall.

"Tonight we gather to witness an auspicious event. An initiation is to take place—the initiation of the son of Lucius Malfoy. Our little Draconis has elected to join us." Voldemort looked down on the blond kneeling gracefully before him. He was the picture of perfection—even better than his father. He was even subservient, but the Dark Lord could feel a spirit in him…but that could be crushed. Everyone could be crushed. And in the end, Draco would be his to play with forever. With that thought, the maniacal wizard's eyes darkened with delight and through thin lips, he grinned.


	11. Take the Plunge, Take the MarkPart Two

"Bellatrix, light the sconces." Fire erupted along the walls throwing shadows everywhere in the dim room.

"Take a moment to prepare yourself, Draco." Voldemort warned, but he allowed no such moment. Cold leather curled around his wrists and jerked his arms above him.

"Are you comfortable, Draco?" asked Voldemort, waving his wand to force Draco's wrists painfully higher.

"Yes, milord." Draco answered dutifully, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Good. MacNair, undress Mr. Malfoy." A tall, looming figure of a man stepped over to Draco. They were at eye level with each other yet somehow the Death Eater appeared to be looking down at him. He grinned maliciously, displaying rotted gums and missing teeth. His rough, callous hands were not gentle and were not polite as they stripped the young Slytherin of his robes, his shirt, his trousers and his boxers.

The Vampire was every bit the Greek statue, hanging naked in the dimly lit room with his pale flesh and well defined figure. Draco could nearly hear the phallic thought passing through the minds of all the Death Eaters.

"You are a Vampire, are you not, Draco?" the Dark Lord continued.

"Yes, milord."

"And a Vampire needs blood."

"Yes, milord."

"Then you shall drink. Drink from MacNair."

The smell of the Death Eater's blood was nauseating and Draco vaguely wondered if it was possible for Vampires to puke. MacNair looked at him with eyes that were lit with malevolence. He stepped towards Draco, pressing his body against him and tipping his head to the side to bare his neck.

"Now, Draco!"

The blond closed his eyes, trying to keep a neutral face as he leant his face down to MacNair's neck. He smelled foul, like sulfur and burning tires. Draco willed his incisors to lengthen and opened his mouth. Wanting to die, Draco bit down on MacNair's neck. The coppery substance filled his mouth immediately and Draco was acutely aware that this was bnot/b Hermione's blood. He pushed down the bile that rose in his throat with a swallow of the horrible red liquid. Draco wanted to spit it out, every instinct in his body was telling him to push away the food—it was poisonous. But Draco had to get through it.

MacNair was moaning and groaning as Draco drank from him. His hands were in the young man's hair, pulling him down and forcing him to continue. Draco choked on the blood rushing down his throat and it dripped out the sides of his mouth. He pulled away, licking the wound to close it, cringing at the awful feeling in his stomach. MacNair stepped off, his gaze full of lust and his breath coming in short pants. Draco's head lolled to and fro on his shoulder as a wave of dizziness hit him.

_'Don't puke, don't puke,'_ he thought to himself, but to no avail. With a sickening lurch of his stomach, Draco was helpless to stop it as MacNair's blood flowed from his mouth lazily down his chest to bathe his front.

"Has my servant's blood upset you?" Voldemort drawled. "Perhaps you just haven't had enough…Nott, go."

Draco could smell Nott approaching. He was awful—like gasoline and rotting flesh. He bared his neck and Draco dutifully clamped down on his neck. If possible, it was even worse than MacNair. His body wanted Hermione's blood—the blood of an honest witch, if anything. Still, he was forcing himself to continue drinking Nott's awful poison he called blood. It was tainted with hate and deceit and treachery. Still, if he could not keep this down, he would only have to drink more. Having had as much as he could stand, Draco unhooked himself from Nott's neck. The Death Eater whimpered at the loss and the sound went straight to Draco's heart, making him want to cry because it shouldn't have been Nott making those sounds. It should have been Hermione.

_'Please, stay down, stay down, please,' _Draco prayed and though he still felt sick, Nott's blood stayed in his roiling stomach.

"It's time for initiation to begin." Voldemort announced and Draco almost screamed. The bastard hadn't even started?!

"Lucius, step forward." The older Malfoy knew what was in store for him when he stepped forward, but he did not want to believe it was truly happening. "Bellatrix, present him with your favorite." their leader offered, motioning to a rack of whips against the back wall.

"Of course, milord." The morbid witch said as she made her way to the wall. Without any thought or hesitation, she picked up the Roman scourge and with a vicious grin, she tossed it to her brother-in-law. Lucius raised his hand and caught it, dread filling every inch of him as the deadly weapon came into contact with his skin.

"What are you waiting for, Lucius? Your sister has given you your tool. Let's see if Draco can guess what it is after ten lashes."

"Yes, milord." Lucius said reflexively. He placed a stone-faced mask of indifference on his face, but in truth was unsure as to whether or not he could control his tears.

"MacMillan, start the count."

Lucius was not allowed to show compassion, not even to his own son. He had to do this. He would be there for Draco later. With a heavy heart and regretful eyes, he raised his right hand and in a swift, fluid motion, brought the whip down. The leather straps whistled through the air and pain bloomed on Draco's back as it hit him. It was not as bad as the young Slytherin has anticipated. He doubted that it had even broken his skin. The whip had stung badly, but the pain was already gone.

Lucius' eyes wanted to pop out of his head at the sight of Draco's ever immaculate skin. It would not do; Voldemort would think he had been lenient and then Draco would surely pay for it. Taking a deep breath, he brought the whip down again, with a furious crash it contacted Draco's skin.

Welts of a furious crimson raised themselves against Draco's alabaster flesh. Draco gritted his teeth and held his breath, trying not to make a sound. Lucius pushed away his conscience and his paternal instinct and snapped his wrist again to lash his son. The sound of cool, unforgiving leather on tenderized skin rang throughout the room. Draco's knuckles seemed to gleam pure white with the force of his clenched fingers. His father swung his arm again and the ever composed Lucius Malfoy flinched as the blood from his son's first cut spurted out onto his face. Draco's breath left him in a giant heave as he felt the sting of the whip opening a long, jagged wound on his shoulder blade. Before he could react, the pain was there again.

His father had kept on, steadfast and determined to be the perfect Death Eater for his lord, he whipped Draco mercilessly. A whimper rose in Draco's throat and he shoved it down. The whip cracked through the air and a grunt was stolen from him. Before he could even chastise himself for responding, the pain blossomed in his back again and suddenly he screamed for the first time that night. His cries reverberated off the walls as reluctant responses were ripped from him. Draco could feel his back becoming a mangled expanse of bloody cuts and gushing wounds. He felt the warm liquid trickle down his back, around his muscular legs and down to his angles.

_'Seven,'_ Lucius made a mental note. _'Only three more. Oh, Merlin, please forgive me, Draco.'_ Again! The whip snapped like a furious animal, again! The whip snapped like a furious animal, again! The whip snarled as it clawed Draco's back to shreds. _'Nine.'_ One tear slipped from Lucius' eye as he, for the final time, sent the whip to lash his son. _'Ten.'_ Draco's blood was dripping down his backside to pool on the floor at his feet. Lucius willed away his tears and bowed his head to the Dark Lord.

"Now, Draco," Voldemort purred, though it came out as something resembling an old man who had smoked too many cigarettes. "Can you tell me what that was?"

Draco shivered and gathered his strength, trying to find his voice. "A—a scourge," the blond croaked.

Lucius was filled with relief as his son called out the correct answer. This part was done! On to the next horror. They were one step closer to the end of this nightmare!

"Very good, Draconis. Still," Dread welled up in the Malfoys along with their Lord's tone. "You must learn self control. Five more lashes, Lucius, and this time, Draco—not a sound. Your lack of self discipline is disgusting."

Lucius wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, to yell and stomp and rebel against the man asking—no; commanding him to torture his own son! But he could not. Both Malfoys knew that Voldemort more than likely had Death Eaters at the Mansion just waiting to give Narcissa the most painful death possible. Cold, disparaged and resigned, Lucius steeled himself for what he would have to do.

Draco bit down on his lip and fought himself intensely trying not to scream as the pain in his back worsened. Some of the cuts that his body had healed were torn open again and even more were on the third strike. There was the sting again, there was another new cut and an old one reopened. Blood dripped down his chin as his teeth threatened to go straight through his lip and as the last bite of the wicked weapon landed upon him, Draco felt a small piece of his spirit fall away. He let his bated breath out through his nostrils, feeling as though his blood had turned to lead. Tired and run down, his body slowed and barely any of his cuts began to heal.

"Very good, I knew you had it in you, Draco." the Monstrous leader crowed. His face was pale and emaciated, his thin lips: dry and chapped. The young Malfoy stared helplessly forward, never meeting the red, piercing eyes of his new master.

"Now, Draconis, extend your wings."

Draco did not want to think about where this was headed, but he knew with the utmost, painful, heart wrenching certainty that it would not be good. Allowing no time for hesitation, Draco willed his wings out. What had been a dark and morbidly beautiful tattoo grew into a towering expanse of radiant wing. Many in the room gasped at the sight. While the flesh of the blond's back remained littered with torn skin and blood, his wings were splendidly untouched. They stemmed gracefully from his back almost beckoning one to move forward, reach out and touch it.

"Amycus," Voldemort called to the male Carrow. "Don't you think our new member has such pretty wings?"

"Yes, milord." Lucius could have slapped that pile of shit passing as a man upon hearing the evident lust in his voice.

"Wouldn't you say that his wings are…perfect?"

"Indeed, milord." Amycus affirmed.

"I'm not sure, though. I think perhaps they need a little something." Voldemort mused aloud.

"What do you suggest, milord?" Amycus asked respectfully, though any imbecile could have picked up on the eager tone to his voice.

"Indulge me, Amycus, what do you love?" A smug sneer was fixed on the Dark Lord's face in a perfect illustration of a man who knew he had ultimate power.

"Fire, my liege." Amycus' voice was low and had such a malicious lilt to it, one could have cringed.

"Ah yes. Wonderful. Tell me, Draco, do you like fire?" Voldemort smiled sweetly, his rotten teeth and rancid breath emanating from between his dry lips.

Draco swallowed the knot of tension that had risen in his throat. "I suppose, milord."

"Well perhaps we can get Amycus to share his," Voldemort paused as if for emphasis, "passion…" Draco shuddered, his skin crawling with disgust and contempt for the man standing so close to him.

"Let's see what you can do, Carrow." the Dark Lord challenged and delight lit up Amycus' eyes.

"Thank you, milord." the taller Carrow stepped away from his position in the circle and arranged himself behind Draco. Lucius clung to Rabastan's arm, trying to see reason and not go charging out and striking that sadist to the ground. He had to remind himself that Narcissa's life was on the line. It would be okay. Draco would survive. But seeing that glint in the fucking fire-starter's eyes had him ready to go again. He clutched Rabastan harder and his friend responded by placing a restraining hand on the elder Malfoy's shoulder.

Amycus grinned and drew his wand. Holly-hawthorne with centaur hooves, it was dark, long and slender. A simple wand, though it was, in Amycus' hand it looked deadly. With a practiced ease, the Death Eater deftly flicked his wand and small golden embers embedded themselves in Draco's winds. Draco hissed in pain as he felt the orange sparks burning him.

With a malevolent expression of glee imprinted on his face, Amycus began his persuasion. With a dexterous flick of his wrist, the embers flared to flames and the Vampire screeched. The flames were quickly brought down to tiny flecks again and Amycus swished his wand to make them dance across Draco's wings.

The young Vampire howled and mewled for respite, but was not spared. No one missed the marked difference between Draco's screams and his Vampiric keening. It was not just a human pain. It sounded worse somehow; as if one were slowly murdering something beautiful. His low moans ensnared the minds of each and every Death Eater that still held a smidgen of honor. It compelled them to try to save him, to go forward and free the poor creature from his misery—but none of them could. Desperately fighting their instincts, everyone remained in their place, but the change in them did not go unnoticed.

When Bellatrix smiled sadistically and her eyes reflected Amycus' enjoyment at the sight of Draco being burned and humiliated, it was obvious that her husband, Rudolphus, did not share these feeling, nor did the Zabinis and especially not Lucius. Lucius looked almost as though he was also experiencing Draco's pain.

Amycus coaxed his flames to new heat as they sat on the bottom of the Vampire's wings. The fire seemed its own entity, not created nor controlled by Amycus—only manipulated. And so it licked its own way along Draco's wingtips, burning him slowly and melting away his flesh.

Draco threw his head back and let out a high pitched screech. Lucius fell to his knees, his hands coming up to cover his ears. This wasn't happening—this couldn't be happening! A Vampire drew a lot of power from their wings as they were magical themselves. They took time to grow and energy to tend. Many Vampires were selected to high places in their society based on their wings. In a sense, the creature was only as good as what they wore on their back. And here was his Draconis, bare and burned, unable to do anything as his once marvelous wings were ruined.

Much as a child plays with a new toy, Amycus toyed with the fire that skipped and frolicked along the Vampire's wings. With each cry of pain he elicited, the cold Death Eater would chuckle and laugh maniacally as though he was winning some game. He cackled as Draco shrieked, raising the flames higher, persuading them happily to more intense heat.

The stench of burning skin lingered heavily in the air along with Draco's wails. The blond was sweating profusely, coated in caked on, dried blood. His head was thrown back, his shoulder length hair dipping into the cursed fire at his back. Tears of absolute pain leaked from his tightly shut eyes and his open mouth let loose cries of sheer misery that only provoked more from the dastardly fuck behind him.

Lucius knelt, practically tearing his hair out, the Lestrange brothers cautiously close, as he wept openly for his son. Malfoys do not cry—Death Eaters don't cry! They are cold and collected and calm and take delight in initiating a new member. A true Death Eater would be proud to see his son inducted! But Lucius cried. Oh, Lucius did cry. He was hot with rage and helplessness; he was awash with grief and frantic with turmoil. He was not proud, he was not delighted. Even the thought of Narcissa safe at home did not quell the shame—the overwhelming shame—that rose in him as he watched, through drowning eyes, his only son being tortured.

"That is enough, Amycus." Voldemort's cool demeanor seemed out of place in the midst of the gruesome scene.

Amycus did not respond, he only chuckled insanely and continued to coerce the flames to waltz gracefully across the once beautiful canvas that was Draco's wings.

"Carrow! ENOUGH!" Voldemort hissed angrily.

Amycus sobered immediately, his eyes becoming serious, the mirth draining from his face as he put his fiery friend to rest and left alone the Vampire's blackened and scarred wings. Draco's mangled body hung limply, his chest heaving, his eyes streaming.

"Draco, I was very pleased to hear your appreciation of fire. I can tell that you and Amycus have something in common." his snake-like visage loomed in front of him and Draco wanted to cry and shy away, but he could not.

"It is time, Alecto." Voldemort said eerily.

"Yes, milord?" Alecto Carrow stepped forward. She was nothing like her fraternal twin. Her dark red hair framed her face before curling around her ears. She pinned back her fringe to show her penetrating blue-green eyes. Unlike Amycus, she was completely beautiful, with high cheekbones and pouted lips. Still, the fearsome smirk that graced her features, while it did not diminish her beauty, made her terrifying to behold. While Amycus was mischievous and ruthless, Alecto was conniving and malevolent.

"Isabella," Voldemort addressed the matriarch Zabini. "Remove Lucius from the room." Knowledge of what was to come dawned on all present. The parents were never allowed to watch this portion of initiation. Most had thought the practice to be legend as they had only head of it and never seen it. But after what they had just witnessed—everyone was certain that they were about to witness a legend coming to life.

Isabella Zabini went gracefully to Lucius and with a simple hand on his shoulder, she led him out of the room. The blond followed her as one might expect a cancer patient to follow a nurse to an operation room; reluctant and resigned.

"Crabbe, remove Draco's restraints." ordered Voldemort. In an instant, the teenage blond found himself in a crumpled heap on the floor. "Zabini, MacMillan, go accompany Draco. Hold his arms back."

"Pardon, milord, but—" Lucan Zabini broke off. The tension in the air was palpable, not a sound was made; no one even dared to breathe. "But…" Lucan continued. "I feel that it is time to mark the young one." Murmurs of scandalous and disrespectful Zabini radiated through the room. The Dark Lord silenced them with a glare.

"I am not of the mind that it is time yet, Lucan. Now move to your place."

"I would, my liege, but…" Lucan gulped. "What are you going to do to him?"

"You are on dangerous ground, scum. You should be ready to grant whatever I ask of you, now go to your place!" Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You can't do this," Lucan said disbelievingly, immediately regretting it.

Voldemort had drawn his wand and shot the curse before Zabini could blink. His head body slumped unceremoniously to the marble tiles, his eyes still wide with the shock of death.

"Parkinson, go hold Draco with MacMillan." Voldemort said, not even looking up from his stare at Zabini's corpse. His minions followed dutifully.

"Are you ready, Alecto?" Voldemort questioned.

"Yes, milord."

"Then it is time." The Dark Lord summoned a plain wooden chair and Draco was made to sit in it. His head hung limply on his shoulders as Parkinson and MacMillan exchanged excited smiles.

"Alecto, introduce our young one to the ways of men."

"Of course, milord." Alecto moved forwards, her gait demure, her expression indifferent. She opened the front of her robes, exposing her bare legs. Without pause, she grabbed Draco's limp cock. Spitting unceremoniously into her hand, she began to stroke him. She was not careful or gentle or sensual. But Draco's body would respond without him. Managing to get him up to half mast, Alecto smiled.

Sweeping the bottom half of her robes behind her, Alecto straddled his lap. Her bare legs skimmed against his. She grabbed him again to position him at her entrance. Draco's eyes became wide and he struggled. He tried to yank his arms away and get away from the sick woman. He suddenly found a will to fight inside him that he had stifled before. He wildly thrashed about and out of instinct, he bucked his hips—but Alecto had been ready for that. She grinned slyly at his look of horror as Draco slid himself into her. NO! NO!! He hadn't wanted this! He didn't mean to do that! This wasn't supposed to happen!

But it had and now he was sheathed inside Alecto no matter what he wanted to believe. "Oh, Draco," she murmured in his ear. Draco could have heaved. Where was Hermione right now? Where was the one he loved and needed? Why was this wretch in her place?

"Stop," Draco whimpered. "Please!"

"What was that, Draco? Don't stop? Oh yeah, I knew you would enjoy this…" Alecto's eyes were aflame with malice as she ground herself on him.

"No! Stop! Don't do this—I can't, you can't, please—don't!" Draco struggled in vain and Alecto only let out a stifled cry of pleasure as she continued to ride him.

"You pathetic little slut, of course you love this. Now fuck me, Draco—fuck me like I know you want to."

Draco's eyes were wide with fear and anger and hurt. He had never felt so violated, so invaded, so vulnerable. Here was Alecto telling him to fuck her and what could he do otherwise? If he struggled, he only pushed himself deeper and if he did not struggle he felt as though he were consenting. His brain became a battlefield of emotion as he wondered what the fuck he could possibly do to ever be clean again. Her rough skin was against his, he could feel himself inside of her and he could not help but cry as the realization that he was helpless washed over him.

"Please, stop!" He sobbed, his body shaking with disgust—not only for Alecto now, but for himself.

"What did you say, Draco?" Voldemort stepped up behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders. Alecto was panting, grinding herself roughly against the blond endlessly. "Do you want more?"

Draco's shocking grey eyes snapped up to meet the Dark Lord's, exposing more pain and turmoil than anyone his age should have to feel. If Draco said yes, he would receive more pain—though he did not know what could be any worse than what he already felt—and if he said no, there would be consequences. Either way he was going to be hurt…So did he want to live or die?

"Yes, please, Sir." Draco said, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper as tears flooded his eyes and the sound of Alecto reaping pleasure from his body reached his ears. His body was making her feel that way. It was his cock inside of her that was making her cry out. _'Oh, Hermione, if you could only know how I've betrayed you.'_

"Hands and knees." Voldemort said clearly and Alecto nearly frowned before catching her mask of indifference and sliding it over her face. She dismounted Draco unhappily and slapped his face, spitting on him.

"Dirty little whore, how dare you try and seduce me!" she said before walking off. Draco cried, his cock standing at a shameful half mast. There it was, the evidence—Draco had wanted it.

_No! I didn't! I didn't want it! I said stop! I said don't! I struggled! **And only pushed myself in further…** But I didn't! I love Hermione, she's my mate! **But I betrayed her. I gave myself to another**. No! It wasn't consensual! It was rape! No! I didn't mean it! **She's right. I am a pathetic, dirty, little whore. **  
_

MacMillan and Parkinson hoisted Draco up out of the chair and threw him to the ground. The Slytherin's knees hit the marble floors with a painful smack Draco fell forward onto his hands. Before he could right himself, iron shackles were present at his wrists and he became chained to the floor. They were on his ankles too—he was stuck again. Trapped, and practically gift wrapped for the Dark Lord's use.

"It's time to play," Voldemort said, towering over the bloody, soot blackened, burnt and blistered body of Draco Malfoy. "You like games, don't you?"

"Yes." Draco's voice was little more than breath, practically inaudible, and yet it seemed to house insurmountable anguish.

"You are going to play a game with me, Draco. It's called, 'Make Me'. Do you know how to play?"

"No, milord."

"It really is a wonderful game. I'm going to fuck you, Draco, and I'm going to make you like it. If I make you cum, I win. If I cum before you, you lose. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Voldemort conjured a table that appeared under Draco, stretching him out over the face of it. The chains on his iron cuffs weren't quite long enough and the wood of the table dug into Draco's skin like a knife. The thin, bony body of the Dark Lord came up behind the young Malfoy.

"Are you ready, Draco?" The question had only just left his mouth when Voldemort forced himself inside his tight channel. An unearthly scream was ripped from Draco's throat as he felt himself suddenly invaded.

"Stop! It hurts! Please, it hurts!" Draco cried, new tears springing to his eyes.

"What hurts, Draco? _This_?" Voldemort shoved himself forward again. Draco was tight and unforgiving, he had not been prepared and he did not want this. The smell of blood grew stronger in the musty air. "You must enjoy it, remember?"

Draco panted in fear and absolute panic. How could he enjoy ithisi? With the slimy, disgusting excuse for a man behind him, pummeling into him without mercy, how was he supposed to enjoy it? Voldemort's nails dug into Draco's hips, probably drawing blood, definitely bruising. "Don't forget, Draco, if I cum before you, you lose."

Wishing he were dead instead, Draco pictured Hermione in his head. He felt grotesque and filthy as he imagined drinking from her. The thought of her sweet flavor on his tongue excited him and he went along with the thought, pulling up the memory of their tryst in the corridor not so long ago. The pleasure that radiated off of her as he slid his fingers in and out of her, the beautiful image she created as she panted for breath, swimming in ecstasy.

Draco felt himself hardening and Voldemort shoved himself harder into him, trying to hit his prostate. He thought of Hermione, the way she played with her hair when she concentrated, the way she nibbled her lower lip when she was nervous. He imagined those lips that he had kissed wrapped around his cock, bringing him to completion. Voldemort weakly managed to scrape by Draco's prostate and Draco pretended that the feeling it inspired was from Hermione. It wasn't from Him, it was all Hermione.

"Yes Draco, that's right, enjoy it." the Dark Lord growled as he raped the young boy. Draco sobbed as he discovered himself pushing back against the grotesque figure behind him. Something snapped inside him as Draco actually tried to enjoy what was going on and managed to succeed. His mind crumbled as he felt his climax drawing near. His spirit broke and spilled out through his eyes in salty tears that dropped on the table like tiny drops of rain. His Vampire cried and Draco screamed in horror as he came and his sanity shot out of him. His body went limp and Voldemort drove into him unyielding before quickly coating his insides with his seed.

He removed himself from Draco's broken form, blood and semen trickling down between his thighs. He snapped his fingers and a cloth appeared in his hands. He used it to clean himself off before snapping his fingers and the shirt was gone. Draco was deathly silent, no tears came from him, no whimpers, nothing… he was simply silent. The shackles disappeared along with the table and Draco seemed not to notice. He remained an unmoving heap, crumbled on the floor.

"Give me your arm, slut." Voldemort commanded as he stood before him. Draco held out his left arm obediently. "Let all bear witness to the night when Draconis Aurelius Malfoy offered himself to the Dark Lord and joined the ranks of the Death Eaters." The tip of Voldemort's wand pressed roughly into Draco's skin and the repulsive dark wizard hissed the proper incantation. The parseltongue sounded beautiful, but the stabbing feeling it created under Draco's skin reminded him of his inheritance.

This was it, this was the last step, it was almost over… almost over… but it hurt so much! If Draco could just make it through this, it would all be fine, but the pain was so great, he did not know if he could. His chest spasmed as he gasped desperately for oxygen through clenched teeth. So much pain, so much _pain_… Voldemort released him from his iron grip, but the pain remained.

"It's done. Go retrieve Lucius and tell him to come collect this whore. I can't stand to see such filth any longer." the Dark Lord commanded and with that, he vanished.

Lucius swept into the room looking a mess, his shirt was immediately recognized by all as the one Voldemort had conjured. Draco's blood was smeared on it in an ugly pattern that would otherwise have been just that, but in this case was utterly sickening. The elder Malfoy rushed to his son's side, not acknowledging any of those present and scooped him up into his arms. "It will be okay," he murmured quietly before apparating away.

Isabella Zabini loomed over her husband's dead body mournfully as most of the other Death Eaters left. Finally alone, Crabbe and Goyle approached their friend. "Rabastan and Rudolphus would have wanted you to know they are sorry for what happened." Crabbe volunteered.

"Yes, Lucan was a good man." Goyle contributed.

"A good man, indeed, and look where it got him." Isabella lamented. "That Potter child better be prepared. If he doesn't kill the Dark Lord, I'll have to do it myself."

"It will be alright." Crabbe assured her, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"No, Crabbe. No it won't."


	12. The Hospital Wing: Part I

"Harry! It's okay, it's just a dream, it's okay!" The Boy-Who-Lived was thrashing about the bed furiously, sobbing and screaming bloody murder as his lover tried to comfort him. Large arms shook Harry forcefully as the voice that belonged to them called his name. "Harry!"

Bright emerald green eyes shot open, sheer horror apparent in their depths. Tears streamed down his face and a loving hand came up to brush them away from his cheek. "Was it of Nott again?" He asked softly as Harry cried into his chest. Through his tears, Harry shook his head "no".

"What was it?" He kept his voice soft as he stroked Harry's hair, knowing that his lover was comforted by the gesture.

"It… it was… Draco." Harry choked out. "Oh, God, it was… I have to get to Dumbledore!"

"Okay, Harry, but I'm coming with you." His lover hugged him close to his chest and they apparated away to Hogwarts.

Harry and his lover hurried through the dank corridors at nearly four in the morning, heading towards the headmaster's office. "Cockroach Clusters," Harry breathed once they had gotten to their destination. Harry's partner paused and swung Harry around to give him a reassuring kiss and a quick embrace before they ventured up the stairs.

"Harry, what are you doing up so late?" the Headmaster inquired, never-minding the fact that he was also up late and in his office no less, as though he had been expecting them.

"I had a vision sir, I… I saw a new Death Eater get initiated tonight." Harry said.

"Who? Why does it warrant you visiting me now?"

"It was Draco Malfoy, sir."

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few moments before Dumbledore sighed. He stood from his desk and faced Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder consolingly. His eyes were troubled and restless.

"Sir?" Harry asked. "Did you hear me? Draco Malfoy was tortured and beaten tonight!"

"Yes, Harry." The Headmaster said quietly. "I know."

...

Lucius and his son landed on the floor of the Hogwarts infirmary in a bloody heap. "Poppy!" Lucius called, cradling his son in his lap. The mediwitch bustled out of her chambers into the wing, her hair a mess as she tied up her robe. She gasped at the sight of the Malfoys on the floor and hurried to their aid.

"What happened?"

"What didn't?" Lucius muttered. "Just help us, Poppy."

The mediwitch didn't question him any further. "Help me get him into a bed." She said and Lucius picked up his son and placed him in the farthest bed in the infirmary. Poppy drew up some curtains around him for privacy, lest anyone wander in. She began running a diagnosis, the list of his injuries was practically endless, but at least the amount of broken bones he had was minimal.

"Hold him down, Lucius." Poppy ordered and she quickly rolled up her sleeves. Draco lay face down on the cot unmoving, but Lucius did as Poppy told him.

The middle aged woman had seen a lot of pain and repaired a lot of men, but she had to take a deep, calming breath before doing this. She placed her right hand on Draco's shoulder and wrapped her other hand around his bicep. She counted one, two and on three she jerked his arm quickly, rolling the bone back into its socket with a sickening crack. Draco screamed and tried to pull away from her, but Lucius held him down.

"It's okay, Draco. It's just Madame Pompfrey, she's healing you, it's okay, shhh, it's okay," Lucius tried to soothe his son, but Draco didn't seem to hear him.

"No! Please! No more! I can't! Please! Don't! Don't touch me there!" He screamed.

"Lucius! I can't wrap his shoulder if he keeps moving! Hold him steady!" Madame Pompfrey scolded and Lucius renewed the hold he had on his son. Draco whimpered under her ministrations, struggling all the while until she finished wrapping his shoulder.

Poppy hurried to her tallest cabinet and unlocked it quickly, scanning the shelves for the right healing salve. There! On the third shelf down she found the correct blue bottle and hurried back to Draco's bedside. "Draco, can you hear me?" she asked in a firm voice. Her patient only mewled pitifully.

"Draco, I am going to rub a healing salve on your wings. The actual salve may feel soothing, but I will have to touch your wings and that will hurt. I need you to promise not to retract them." Poppy hoped to any higher power that was listening that Draco would be able to obey her. His tear stained face nodded against the cotton pillow and Poppy gathered her strength for the task. With careful hands, Poppy rubbed the salve on a portion of Draco's left wing. The Vampire cried and the sound near broke the mediwitch's heart, but she knew she could not stop. She tried to ignore the sad, pained sounds coming from her patient as she smoothed the pale blue paste over the blackened and burned remains of Draco's once beautiful wings.

"What did he do to him, Lucius?" Poppy asked, her voice tight with contained fury.

"Amycus Carrow," Lucius breathed as he stroked his son's hair and swiped at the tears leaking from the young man's eyes. Understanding dawned immediately in Madame Pompfrey's eyes. Amycus Carrow, the fire starter, she knew him well. She could recall child after child coming in with burns from that sadist. He enjoyed watching them squirm; he took delight in each childish shriek he could get from them. Poppy knew precisely what he had done to Draco and it made her insides roil with unease.

Madame Pompfrey used the last bit of the blue salve on Draco's wings and dropped the vial in the waste bin. She scrubbed her hands clean in a nearby sink and gathered up some gauze bandages. She wrapped Draco's wings to the best of her ability, but they were large appendages and awkward to work on. The mediwitch swept her sleeve across her brow to collect the perspiration there as she continued to labor over the precious creature on the bed before her.

"Draco," she said some time later, "This is going to hurt some more, but I need you to retract your wings." Draco whined pitifully as if merely the thought was enough to cause him pain. "Please, Draco, I need you to retract your wings so that I can heal the lacerations on your back. After a few seconds, Draco buried his face in the pillow at his head and began to retract his wings. The movement was not smooth; it was not fluid as it had been before. It was ginger and jerky, as though Draco's wings were not his own anymore. Slowly and gradually his wings magicked themselves into his back. The tattoo that had once looked morbidly beautiful and mesmerizing now was a mangled mess of illusioned ink. The wings had been destroyed and the magic they held with them. They disappeared into a black mess as grotesque to the eye as the cut up flesh around it.

Poppy had Lucius scrub up so that he could help her. She drew her wand and for every cut that she healed, he was behind her to place an anti-scar healing salve over it and bandage it. It took a good thirty minutes to heal Draco's back before they moved on to his legs. After an hour his body was bandaged completely and covered in soothing potions.

"Lucius, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the room now while I–"

"No, Poppy. I am not going to leave him. I left so that they could do this to him, I left when they… robbed him of his dignity and shattered him beyond repair. He'll never be the same again and it's because I left him. I'm not going to leave him now."

"Lucius you know there was no other way–"

"DON'T! I should have been able to find some other way, I'm his god damned father! How can I claim to love him when I let this happen to him?"

Poppy was at a loss. Lucius Malfoy was driving himself insane with guilt and blind fury right in front of her eyes. The famed Malfoy façade had cracked and here he was falling to pieces in front of her. Drawing strength, Madame Pompfrey grabbed Lucius' shoulders forcefully. "Get a hold of yourself, man!" She said, shaking him. "Draco needs you. You did what you thought was your only choice. This is indeed a tragedy, but continue to be a father and make sure that Draco comes out stronger for it instead of wallowing in grief and regret! How much help will you be if you can only regret this? None at all, so if that is what you plan to do, leave now. If you plan to care for Draco and help him accept this and move on, then go to him and turn him over."

Lucius wore of look of shock before he sobered and quickly went over to Draco to turn him onto his back. Poppy began flicking her wand over Draco's limp form and muttering strings of complicated Latin. Lucius stroked the hair away from his son's face, whispering comforting words to him as the mediwitch worked. Poppy had little experience with rape victims and only knew what she had heard or read in books, but it is one thing to do something in theory and an entirely different thing to apply that in practice. The spells for healing internal wounds were complicated and specific to certain body parts; if done incorrectly it could cause awful consequences.

Draco was torn inside in several places and the cuts had been coated in vile semen that carried who knew what kinds of viruses. Poppy needed to check the young man for venereal disease, clean the wound, heal the wound as much as possible, protect it from infection and make sure that it would stay that way. This was not like a skin laceration that could be healed slightly and bandaged with a salve. This demanded the attention and energy to heal the entirety of the injury before moving on to anything else. By the time Poppy was finished, she was utterly exhausted. She swayed on her feet as she put Draco into a temporary healing coma.

"He will sleep until he is completely healed. When he wakes up, we'll have to deal with the mental side of things… that is, if he wakes up." Madame Pompfrey admitted.

"What do you mean 'if'?" Lucius growled.

"Draco has gone through a lot. Like you said, his spirit has been broken. He is a young Vampire without his mate. His birthday is in the summer isn't it? So he just turned recently. Most new creatures resent their inheritance suddenly being thrust upon them and I trust that Draco is no different. It is possible that Draco will see no reason to continue living. If Draco doesn't find a reason to go on, he will never come out of the healing coma. He will sleep for all eternity if he sees it as better than living; it happens with rape victims." Poppy paused hesitantly, unsure of how to handle the sorrowed and dismayed Lucius before her.

"All he needs is a reason not to give up." Poppy said reassuringly, hoping that Lucius was listening, but knowing by the look in his eyes that he was too overwhelmed to hear her. "Have a…" the mediwitch began, but then decided that would be ridiculous to say. "Sleep–" How could she tell him to sleep well when she knew he would not sleep at all? "…Watch over him." She finally said and then stumbled back to her room for some much needed sleep.

...

"You know?" Harry breathed. "Well… then he's being taken care of?"

"He is currently sedated in the hospital wing, most likely. I'm not quite sure, Poppy hasn't firecalled me."

"Then how do you know!" Harry cried.

"I'm the headmaster, Harry. The walls even have ears in Hogwarts and I am aware of everything that goes on. Given your schedule, and the information I have, you were present when Lucius Malfoy stepped through Professor Snape's fireplace, were you not?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry blanched. "Yes, but–"

"And you are an empath, are you not?"

"Well, yes, but–"

"And you heard and felt what was going on, you knew Draco was going to be initiated as a Death Eater, did you not?"

"Of course, it's just that–"

"Then what's the surprise, Harry? What you saw is what happens to everyone who is initiated. It's part of the process. You knew this."

"I didn't know it would be that bad! You don't understand, sir! It was–" Harry choked on a sob that rose in his throat. Tears stung at his eyes as he recalled what had happened to Draco. "It was awful." He said softly, his head bowed as though he could no longer bear to see Dumbledore's calm face. The arms of his lover wrapped around him consolingly and he leaned into the touch appreciatively.

"I'm sorry you had to see it, Harry, but you knew what was at stake. What would you have done to save Lily?" the Headmaster's voice was filled with all the remorse that his eyes could not reflect. Harry thought of his own mother and what he would have done to save her.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Practice your Occlumency, that should help with the nightmares. I wish I could do more for you." Harry felt the sincerity in Dumbledore's words and nodded silently.

"You may go back to Gryffindor tower now, Harry." the Headmaster dismissed him and the raven haired boy turned to go, holding his lover's hand. Dumbledore caught the other man by the arm however and held him back. "I think perhaps you ought to accompany our friend to his chambers tonight. He needs the reassurance and I don't want him to risk sneaking out of the castle any longer." The two in question seemed a bit embarrassed that the Headmaster knew of Harry's midnight forays, but felt they should have expected it.

"Of course, sir. Thank you." the man replied.

"No, Bill, thank you."

...

"I can't tell you, Bill." Harry insisted again. "I wish I could talk about it, I really do, but it's not my story to tell. What happened to Draco is too awful; if he wants to tell you someday then he will, but I can't be the one."

"Okay," Bill conceded, giving Harry a gentle, reassuring squeeze around his waist. He kissed his forehead sweetly, "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I'll be thankful for the comfort of your arms tonight. I need it."

"I'm here for you, babe." Bill leaned down to kiss the emerald eyed wonder before him and the Fat Lady sighed wistfully. They looked up at her uncomfortably.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to stop. You're just so adorable together." She cooed and Harry stifled a chuckle at the sound of her voice so gentile in contrast to the usual snipe.

"Well thank you, Guinevere," Bill said cordially. "Could you let us in? I'm afraid it's been a rough few hours and Harry needs his rest."

Harry elbowed Bill for making it sound like he was a child who needed tending to, but decided he was too tired to scold him and settled for following him through the portrait hole. "Goodnight," Bill bid the Fat Lady as they passed.

"How did you know her name?" Harry murmured into Bill's robes, inhaling the comforting scent of his love.

"I never remembered the password. I spent many a night outside the common room sweet talking her into letting me in." Bill explained.

"I never knew she even had a name." Harry chuckled, his open mouth immediately turning into a yawn.

"Time for bed," Bill said again and scooped Harry up into loving arms and escorted him to bed.

Harry yawned sleepily, his brows furrowing together. "What about Hermione?"

Bill kissed the top of Harry's head and said, "She knew he had to go. She can be there for him in the morning."

"It was so awful, Bill…so awful," Harry breathed as he unwillingly lost himself to sleep while Bill undressed him for bed.

"I know, honey," Bill said sadly as he slid between the sheets next to the Boy-Who-Lived. "I know."

...

"Lucius," a voice called. "Lucius, come on, it's almost eight."

Lucius made a groaning sound, but reluctantly opened his eyes. Severus Snape stood before him, his face showing more expression than Lucius thought the man even possessed. "Sev'rus?"

"I'm sorry, friend. I feel I should have been there for you and Draco. The Dark Lord believes me to be working on an important defensive potion that I cannot leave alone; he did not call me. I thought it would be a private initiation, as per usual. I am sorry I wasn't here to help last night."

"The entire inner circle was called." Lucius informed him.

"I thought so. Narcissa firecalled me to ask where you were; she said that Flint had described the initiation all too well for her. She was manic. She needs you, Lucius, she said something about...Lucius, she fears for her life."

"I can't leave him. Not after what happened."

"She can't come here, Lucius. How would it look? No one can know what's happened to Draco."

"I will not leave my son. I tried to keep Narcissa and now I have lost him. I'm sure she is fine; that was the deal."

Severus heard the severity and self loathing in his friend's tone and dropped the issue. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Make him get better." Lucius said flatly. Severus nodded somberly, knowing his friend meant only to say that there was nothing either of them could do. Without another word, he swept out of the infirmary and back to his dungeons.

Lucius turned tiredly to his son, stroking the pale blond hair out of his face lovingly. The subtle glow of the healing coma he was in had turned a pale blue that promised good health. "I'm so sorry, my son." Lucius murmured as he brushed his lips across Draco's forehead.

Madame Pompfrey emerged from her quarters to the sight of the touching scene. Unsure of how to handle such a display she cleared her throat. Lucius didn't bother to look up. "How is he?"

"The blue aura is a sign that his injuries have healed well. Physically, I would allow him to leave. I just don't know how he is mentally."

Lucius nodded solemnly. "Should I feed him?"

"He'll get his nutrients from the supplement potions I'll give him. Worry about feeding yourself." Poppy told him.

"I'm fine." Lucius said shortly.

"I'll tell a house elf to bring up something for you. Would you like anything in particular?"

"I am fine, woman," replied Lucius.

"Sausage it is."

...

"AHHHH!"

"What? What is it? Who's there!" Harry shot up in bed at the sound of a man screaming.

"Oh Merlin, no, I've been scarred! I'm blind!"

"What? What is it?" Harry reached out to his bedside table and groped for his glasses.

"Please, Ron, calm down, it's not so bad," Harry heard Bill saying nearby. He rubbed his itchy eyes and slipped on his glasses.

"Not so bad? NOT SO BAD? This is awful! Utterly awful!"

"What? What is it?" Harry asked.

"Harry!" Ron had his hands buried in his fiery hair, practically pulling out every strand. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like!"

"What what looks like?" Harry wondered.

"This! Bill Weasley, my brother, standing in our room, just having gotten up from YOUR bed!"

Harry's eyes widened as he realized why his best friend had just gone raving mad. "Oh."

"Harry?" Ron prompted.

"Ron, it's my right to date whoever I so choose!" Bill interjected.

"Oh yes, whoever you choose, just not Harry!" Ron said angrily.

"Hey, why not 'Harry'?" Harry pouted.

"Because—because—you're… Well because you're like my brother Harry! And Bill's my brother too! So… It's just so weird!"

"But Bill's not my brother!" Harry defended. "This is really shit, Ron. I finally find someone to love, really love, and he just happens to love me back and you can't even be happy for us?"

"Okay fine, I can be happy for you guys being in love, I just won't be happy to see you sleeping together!"

"Wait, so by your morals I can love Harry, I just can't love Harry?" Bill asked with a smirk.

"Exactly." Ron said. "I mean, of course I'm happy you love each other, I just don't forgive you for scarring me with the visual of you loving him up!"

"But I wasn't!"

"You guys were attached at the hips!" Ron yelled.

"We were just cuddling," Harry said with a quiet laugh.

"I did not need to see that! You could have at least told me you were in love with my own brother, you know!" Ron said, addressing the amused Harry.

"I didn't want to get the reaction I'm getting right now," Harry explained.

Ron blushed. "Oh," he said sheepishly. "Still! That was unnecessary visual information."

"Oh get over it, so your brother is buggering your best friend, it could be worse!" Harry admonished as he got his things for a shower.

"How could it be worse?"

Harry grinned ruefully at his friend. "I could be buggering him." Harry winked at the shocked faces and then disappeared into the bathrooms. Ron and Bill exchanged glances before Bill sneered at his brother and followed Harry into the showers.

Ron shook his head and neglected the showers, grabbing some clean clothes and donning them quickly. He carded his fingers through his hair and left the dormitory. Ron took the steps two at a time, driven by the thought of fresh bacon and eggs. Hermione was pacing in the common room, twirling the ends of her hair nervously.

"Hey, 'Mione, you okay?" The brunette looked up in surprise at her friend.

"Oh, umm… I suppose. Something just doesn't feel right. I want to know how Draco is doing." She confessed.

"Well, he's probably gone to have breakfast," Ron said consolingly. "You can see him then. Come on, luv, let's go." Hermione nodded absentmindedly and allowed herself to be led to the Great Hall.

She passed through the doors glancing around almost frantically. "I don't see Draco anywhere," she complained.

"Maybe he slept late, Hermione. I'm sure he's had a few rough days. Relax, eat something. It'll be okay." Ron assured her.

Hermione's stomach rolled uncomfortably, but she took some toast for her plate and spread some butter on it. Breakfast seemed to last forever. Hermione looked up whenever anyone even came near the doors to the Great Hall, but it was never Draco. The longer she waited to see him, the more worried she got. Ron finished his breakfast and turned to Hermione.

"Where do you think he would be?"

"I don't know," Hermione said wringing her hands. "I… Oh!" Hermione gasped, her eyes widened and her brows knitted together as she gathered her robes around her and quickly fled the Great Hall.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron called to her as he hurried after her.

Hermione burst into the infirmary panting from her jog up there. "Madame Pompfrey!" she called.

"Who is that! There are patients sleeping!" Poppy hissed, her angry expression fading a little at the sight of Hermione. "Oh, is something wrong?"

"Is Draco Malfoy here?" the Gryffindor asked anxiously. Poppy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether or not she should divulge Hermione that particular information.

"He was injured last night, he's sleeping it off." Madame Pompfrey finally replied.

"Please, Madame Pompfrey, I need to see him." Hermione begged.

"Why would y—"

"I'm his Mate." The mediwitch stared at the girl before her, flabbergasted for a moment before she composed herself and led Hermione to the back of the infirmary. She glared at Ron, making it explicitly clear that he should make himself scarce and the Weasley got the message.

Hermione could not withhold the gasp that escaped at the sight of Draco on his hospital bed. His brows were furrowed, his face sallow and troubled. His entire torso had been wrapped in white gauze, but Hermione could see the orange tinted places where wounds being healed with a salve must have touched. The rest of him was obscured from view by blankets. Hermione was grateful for that, doubtful that she could bear to see him in worse condition. She tried not to imagine what he must have looked like when he had come in last night. She fell to her knees at his bedside and burst into tears.

Lucius Malfoy looked on at the young woman who had just broken down next to his son. She sobbed heartbreakingly, her body shaking with the force of her cries. Unsure of what to do, he merely cleared his throat. Hermione Granger looked up at him in surprise, as though she hadn't seen him there. Her eyes were still a perfect reflection of all the pain she felt.

"Mr. Malfoy," she gasped. "I—I—"

"I never knew you were so close to my son." Lucius said softly, turning his gaze back to Draco.

"I wasn't really until recently," Hermione confessed, swiping a hand at her eyes that continued to stream tears despite her efforts.

"Oh? What happened?" Lucius wondered in a half bored, half interested tone.

"We got to know each other better," Hermione decided to say. She wasn't sure how Lucius Malfoy would take to news that his son was fated to be with a muggleborn. "He really is a good man."

"Yes. He is," Lucius agreed quietly.

Hermione's throat constricted as she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to, "Is he going to be okay?"

"Perhaps. It is difficult to say. Draco has…suffered quite a bit… If he finds a reason to be okay, he will be." Lucius closed his eyes in a silent prayer that that something would come along soon.

Hermione was silent; she simply continued to stare at Draco's sleeping face. "How long has he been asleep?"

"Since last night."

"That's not so long…"

"I suppose not under regular circumstances."

"Yeah…under regular circumstances. Then again, I suppose Draco has never been very 'regular'."

"No. He never has."

Hermione could hear the pain that she felt mirrored in Lucius' voice. She could see the love in his gaze as he kept his eyes firmly on Draco. This was a good man. This was a man who only wanted the best for his son. This was a father…Draco's father.

"Am I an interesting spectacle to you, Miss Granger, or do you make it a habit of staring at people?" Lucius' cold tone snapped her out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, blushing.

"Why are you here?" Lucius asked the question as though he really meant it as, "Why are you bothering me".

"I am here," Hermione took a deep breath, "to be with my Mate." Lucius was silent for a long time and Hermione wondered if he was preparing to send her away with some vile curse. She could not meet his gaze, frightened of seeing hatred or anger there.

"How do you know?" He finally asked.

"Instinct mostly. He says my blood is perfect for him and I am glad to know that. I wouldn't want him to drink from anyone else. I am drawn to your son, Mr. Malfoy. Whether it's because of what he is or who he is I don't think matters. If I had gotten to know him under different circumstances, I'm certain I would have fallen in love with him anyway; as deeply and as truly as I have already fallen for him." A tear outlined Hermione's cheek as she swept a few stray blond strands out of the Slytherin's face.

"He has to be okay," She whispered.

"Give him a reason to be."


	13. The Hospital Wing: Part II

Hermione eventually conceded to Madame Pompfrey and left the hospital wing. She stopped in the tower to feed her Gnargle and give it a little attention, but it only reminded her of the day spent with Draco and all that they'd done together then. How could so much have changed in so little time? On the verge of tears, Hermione carefully placed the Gnargle back in its cage and left the tower. It was well after eleven and, having already missed Arithmancy and half of Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione trudged her way to Professor McGonagall's office, hoping that her head of house wasn't busy with a class.

She raised a tentative hand and knocked quietly on the door. "Come in," came the elegant Scottish brogue from the other side. Hermione poked her head through and saw McGonagall grading papers at her desk, thankfully alone.

"Good morning, professor," Hermione greeted, though her voice suggested that the morning was anything but "good".

"Why, hello, Miss Granger. What brings you here this morning?"

"I just need to request a pass to share rooms with Draco. Since we're both prefects, I figured I could just move my things into his. This way, it will be easier for us to complete our assignment for Care of Magical Creatures. Proffessor Hagrid had mentioned it was an option."

"Yes, of course," the Scottish witch agreed, unaware that Draco was unconscious in the Hospital Wing. "I just need signed permission from your parents. Here are the forms, dear, come back with them any time." McGonagall handed her two pieces of parchment and Hermione took them with a murmured thanks and left quickly.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" McGonagall called as the Gryffindor was nearly out the door.

Hermione hesitated, teetering on the border between asking McGonagall to transfigure her into a fly and swat her and just leaving… "No, thank you, professor; I'm fine."

...

"Pumpkin Pasties," Hermione spoke and the gargoyle jumped aside to allow her passage to Dumbledore's office. "Professor?" she called as she timidly entered.

"Yes, Miss Granger, what can I do for you today?"

"I request that I be excused from classes until Draco Malfoy is released from the hospital wing. I will perform independent study if that is required, but I would prefer to do so from his bedside." Hermione said fearlessly. Dumbledore sat gawking at her for a few moments before the silence became unbearable and Hermione cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, I'm not sure I can allow that…"

"I'm really only asking for your approval at this point, not your permission. You see, professor, Draco Malfoy is my Mate. I need to be with him right now and I will do so with or without your consent. I just thought I would ask for your consent first out of respect and because it would make my stay under Madame Pompfrey's eye a bit less… difficult." Hermione confessed.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in the light of the office as he looked at the strong woman standing before him. He could not keep her from Draco… She was bright, she would pass her exams—of that he was sure. "Alright, Miss Granger. I'll notify the staff that you are excused from classes until further notice. Until then, take this note to Madame Pompfrey." Dumbledore scrawled some quick words on a piece of parchment and handed it to her. Hermione took it with a murmured thanks and shuffled off, trying her best not to run back to the infirmary.

"Miss Granger, I told you to go to your classes! I cannot have you here missing—"

"I've been excused from classes. Professor Dumbledore sent me along with this," Hermione handed the mediwitch her note and left her to read it on her own. She walked past her all the way to the last bed—Draco's bed—and conjured a chair to sit in. Lucius Malfoy was sleeping silently in the chair across from her still, his expression a screen of guilt.

Hermione pulled herself closer so that the chair touched the side of the bed and she could reach Draco. She trailed her fingers over his pale cheekbone lovingly and caressed his soft, pink lips. "Good afternoon, Draco." She said softly. "I visited Professor McGonagall today, got our pass to share rooms. Won't that be fun, Draco? Sharing rooms and all. I know you were excited. I'd like to spend the night in your arms and wake up in the same warm embrace…" Hermione trailed off sadly.

"I saw Professor Dumbledore, too. Told him I wouldn't go back to classes until you were out of the hospital wing. At first he looked at me like I was crazy, but he quickly…very quickly realized that I was going to do as I pleased and he gave me a pass for independent study until further notice.

"So you see, Draco, you should wake up soon because I can't go back to class until you do." Hermione finished pathetically, her eyes watering up as Draco's face remained unresponsive. "It's not much… but it's one reason so far."

"I can think of a much better reason, Miss Granger…" A voice startled Hermione out of her trance. The brunette looked up at the disheveled elder Malfoy in surprise.

"What is it?" She wondered when he didn't say anything more.

"…His Mate."

Hermione nearly burst into tears, but she desperately held onto her flimsy composure. "Oh?...Perhaps." Hermione agreed noncommittally, speaking through the lump of tears rising in her throat.

Lucius leaned across the bed and gently touched Hermione's hand that rested on Draco's chest. She looked up at him, trying to keep calm. His eyes locked onto hers seriously, "Definitely. He is lucky to have a Mate like you. I have only seen you with him for mere moments in here today, yet I can already see plainly how much you care for him. I don't know how long you two have been interested in each other, but since I have never heard anything very good about you I can't imagine it's been very long. And yet, even with that, it is striking to me just how plain and true your love for him is. You are, without a doubt, a reason for him to be well, a reason for him to wake up, a reason for him to want to live."

By this time Hermione's eyes were drowning in the tears that spilled down her cheeks silently. She buried her face in her arms crossed over her knees. _'Oh, Draco… please come back to me.'_

**Roughly Four Months Later...**

Christmas music drifted through every corridor of the school. Garlands and wreaths hung along the walls while lit candles floated through the air. The smell of pumpkin spice and apple cider was heavy around everyone in Hogwarts as the season's spirit got to everyone; that is, everyone except for those in the infirmary...

"This can't go on any longer, Albus," the Mediwitch said sadly. "It's been months."

"Exactly," agreed the Transfiguration professor. "Draco shows no sign of waking and the longer he stays here, the more questions are raised with the students. They already know he's not human, plenty of them have wheedled out that he's a vampire, we can't risk them finding out anything else! God forbid anyone connects Hermione's absence with his!"

"How could you have let her stay with him?" Madame Pompfrey asked. "It looks bad. What are we supposed to say?"

"Albus, are you even listening to us? You have to stop this."

Dumbledore continued to stare past the women speaking to him. Instead, he kept his eyes on the sad scene at the back of the infirmary. It was a typical Wednesday morning over there; Hermione's weak smile in place as she talked to the Vampire in the bed-who never responded. He was glad he had missed their exchanging of presents earlier this morning. What a way to spend Christmas... The headmaster wasn't sure what was worse-that Draco was not showing signs of waking up or that Draco had been comatose long enough for this to become a "typical Wednesday".

"What do you suggest I do?" He inquired rhetorically of his colleagues. "She is his mate. He is everything to her. I've already limited the amount of time she gets to spend with him. Not only that, but while Draco has been in this state-he has been kept out of Lord Voldemort's hands."

"Don't you even bring that up, Albus!" McGonagall hissed. "You know as well as anyone that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the one that caused this in the first place! And, in any case, Harry has been forced to take the brunt of his wrath while he's been deprived of Draco. Even with the Occlumency, the boy feels it. He fears becoming like the Dark Lord."

"I cannot help that." Albus defended. "If Draco were dead, it would mean the same."

"Draco practically is dead! Harry cannot take much more of this." McGonagall continued.

"Much more of what? The same turmoil he has had to endure and will have to endure no matter Draco's condition? Spare me, Minerva-I will not kill Draco Malfoy."

"Albus, I believe if we let him rest, his soul would finally find peace." Madame Pompfrey advised.

"No."

"Isn't there anyone who can help Draco?" McGonagall wondered.

"Only he can. Hermione is already devastated that she doesn't seem to be enough. He needs to sort things out for himself. No doubt that is what he is, and has been, doing."

"You speak as though he is sorting out his problems in another realm, Albus."

"That is exactly what I mean, Minerva. Time passes differently in dreams. Draco needs a lot of time to sort through the awful things he's endured. He will wake when he has come to terms with what has happened."

"What if he never comes to terms with it?" Minerva asked dubiously.

Albus only shook his head. "As for Harry, I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do. He seemed happy at the beginning of the year; I suppose it was the presence of Bill Weasley. The man always had a cheery disposition and with Harry's empathic powers, he must have felt rather comfortable around him."

"Harry still sees Bill, though, doesn't he?" Madame Pompfrey pointed out.

"Ever since Draco came here that night, Harry devoted himself to destroying Voldemort as quickly as possible. I know that he's taken little time to relax with even Ron or Hermione, let alone getting out of the castle to see Bill. As much as I don't condone such reclusiveness, how can I tell him otherwise? Voldemort's power increases every day. We cannot waste any time."

"How many horcruxes are left?" asked Minerva timidly.

"Only one."

The professor gasped. "What about Nagini?"

"Killed earlier this week," replied Poppy. "Harry's weekend project. He came back to the infirmary with several scratches and a broken bone, but thankfully no bites."

"Then it is just..."

"Yes." Dumbledore affirmed for the redhead.

"Albus...do you think Hermione could withstand losing Harry and Draco?" Minerva didn't really want to know, but she couldn't help but ask.

The headmaster was silent, still staring at the sad scene not too far off. "I believe you know the answer to that."

"It couldn't be her fault though, her soul is just trying to get to his," the Mediwitch defended. They paused for a moment, all thinking about different occurrences of the same thing. Several times, Hermione had been found with something sharp aimed at a major vein. Even more frequently she was found poised at the top of the Astronomy tower, as if ready to jump. Every time, she was coaxed away from danger and, once back in safety's arms, she could not remember what she'd done.

"What shall we do, Albus?" Minerva's voice was filled with unshed tears.

Finally, Dumbledore faced them, looking from Madame Pompfrey's eyes to McGonagall's. "I don't know," He said in a soft and broken tone, and with that he was left alone to watch the heartwrenching typical Wednesday before him.

"Look, Draco, we got an O on our project!" Hermione informed the unconscious Vampire. "I never would have thought there were so many kinds of Unicorn," she mused.

"Time for Magical Creatures already?" Lucius inquired, opening his eyes and sitting up from his previous dozing position.

"No, but since I'm already a full chapter ahead on Arithmancy, I figured we could just move on...Plus I couldn't wait to see the score." Hermione replied.

"Just as well," the older wizard carded a hand through his hair. "I can't stand Arithmancy." The corners of Hermione's mouth lifted a little at that, the muscles struggling to make a smile that just wouldn't form. "What are we learning about today?"

"The Caladrius," Hermione said, flipping to a page in the middle of the book.

"Ah yes, the famed Calandre." Lucius acknowledged.

"Caladrius, Calandre, Charadrius-all different names for the same bird."

"Well, let's hear what the text has to say about it," said Lucius unenthusiastically.

"The Caladrius is an all white bird, measuring approximately 1.5 metres from beak to tail. It is one of the few magical creatures from which we cannot harvest any potion ingredients, though some say that Caladrius meat is quite tasty and brings good luck."

"I wonder who would kill such a beautiful and useful bird for something as menial as food," Lucius interjected. Hermione 'hmm'ed in agreement before continuing.

"The Caladrius has the ability to tell if a sick man will die and even to heal an ill man. If a Caladrius looks into the eyes of an infirmed, they will get well. The Caladrius will draw the sickness into itself and fly away, expunging the sickness from itself as it flies. If they refuse to look at the ill, however, they will surely die." Hermione paused, digesting the information and trying not to let her mind wander to where she knew it would go. _Would the Caladrius look at Draco?...or would it look anyplace but?_

"Hermione?" Lucius prompted when her silence stretched on and she snapped out of her trance. The Gryffindor found her place quickly and began again.

"If the Caladrius deems one unworthy, they may let him or her die-even if they could be saved. Debate over how to please the Caladrius remains to this day. Some say it is better to face the Caladrius with an unblinking gaze to show boldness and strength of character-thereby showing worth. Others say that such an action would offend the Caladrius and that one should avert their eyes at all times to show respect."

As Hermione read, she couldn't keep the thoughts of Draco out of her head. Would he ever come back to her? Or would he be lost forever? Was he gone from this world completely, or did some part of him still linger with her? Why couldn't she tell? Why couldn't she feel his presence as strongly as she used to? Would the Caladrius be able to look him into the eye and heal him-even when he was in perfect physical condition? The small blip of Draco that she felt in her heart ached-a growing flower crushed under the grips of the first frost. A drop of moisture appeared on the pages under her gaze, fanning out into a little splotch as the paper absorbed it. She touched a finger to her cheek disbelievingly; when had she begun to cry?

"I'm sorry," she said, though she wasn't quite sure what for.

"Quite alright. Happy Christmas." Lucius dismissed himself, giving her some privacy. On his way out, he noticed Dumbledore weeping silently on one of the middle beds, having witnessed the morning's constitution. He placed a momentary consoling hand on the old wizard's shoulder before leaving the infirmary. There was only so much sorrow one person could take and, unfortunately, most of what Lucius could handle already filled him up inside.

One question remained in everyone's mind, though no one ever wanted an honest answer... Would Draco ever wake up?


	14. The Reunion

Draco woke in the cool darkness of the Hogwarts Infirmary. His throat was unbelievably dry and he fumbled for the glass and jug of water at his bedside. He gulped down four cups before feeling mildly appeased and set the jug down on the table again. A small noise drew his attention to the right and his gaze was diverted to the sleeping Hermione, bathed in the soft moonlight that came in through the window.

Her hair was held back in a bun by a wooden rod she had once told him was a "pencil". He recalled the fire in her eyes that had been present when she'd glared at him as she told him that. That fire was gone now, replaced by a tired sorrow. The worry lines in her face seemed deeper, though Draco could have imagined it. Stray curls framed her face, accenting the alabaster pallor of her cheeks that suggested she hadn't been outside in weeks.

Hermione mumbled in her sleep, her brows furrowing together in worry. How long had he been asleep? How long had his ears been deaf to her gentle voice? When was the last time he had kissed her soft, pink lips, held her supple body in his arms or...drank her blood? Draco's throat was dry suddenly.

Hermione shifted again, moving restlessly in her awkward chair. Her head fell back and her neck stretched out, open and awaiting Draco's bite. He hovered over her, tempted so badly to open her carotid artery, but not wanting to rouse her from sleep she appeared to need. _'Just one sip...couldn't hurt, right?...and it's been so long...'_

Draco's resolve crumbled feebly and he leaned into his Mate, allowing his canines to fill up his mouth. A broken whimper escaped him at the first drop that met his tongue. It was the sweetest relief, but the most bitter disappointment; the greatest pleasure and the worst pain. With every swallow, the sweetest nectar he'd ever known filled him with ecstasy and the taste of sorrow's stain lingered on his tongue. Draco sucked Hermione's life essence into himself, red tears of blood leaking from his eyes as he tasted her heartache, lapped at her battered hope and gulped her pain.

Hermione stirred beneath him, drifting slowly out of the fog of sleep. She couldn't remember where she was nor what she was doing there. Everything around her was a blur-except him. Hermione's eyes widened as her hands went up to touch him. to see if it was real. Was it? Was she dreaming? She must be; it couldn't really be him... Draco...

His hair still felt soft beneath her fingers; his skin was warm under her touch. But there was wetness on her neck and Draco never spilled a drop. Hermione was delirious by the time Draco pulled away and licked the bite closed. Her eyes had drifted shut and she held onto Draco desperately. Something inside her worried that if she opened her eyes, he would be gone, like a dream in the middle of the night.

A drop of wetness splashed onto her cheek and she wondered again where it came from. "Draco?" she breathed, not wanting to disturb the quiet of her dream. A broken sob was all that she got in reply. "Draco?" She prompted again. "Is it...is it really you?"

"Yes," murmured the blond above her. "Yes, it's me, 'Mione, I'm here, it's me."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione clung to Draco tighter, squeezing her eyes shut with all her might.

"Look at me," Draco asked. "I want to see your eyes, please, Hermione, look at me."

"I can't," the Gryffindor replied.

"Why not?"

"If I look at you, if I open my eyes...I'll wake up."

Draco's heart clenched; had he been gone so long that his return must be a dream to her? Draco's hands dug into her flesh, crushing her body to his.

"Ow," Hermione yelped.

"I'm sorry!" Draco gasped and immediately loosened his hold on her.

"Don't let go!" she cried nervously.

"I promise, I won't. I won't go away, 'Mione, I'm here now." The tears from his eyes marched dutifully down his cheeks as he held his love in his arms. "How long has it been, 'Mione? How long since I held you?"

"I think about three months. I used to count the days religiously...but after Halloween passed and you still weren't awake...then Thanksgiving...I just lost track. I stopped thinking about how long it had been."

"Gods, Hermione, I am so..."

"Don't be sorry. I knew you would come back to me, even when no one else believed it anymore."

"How did you know that?"

"Because I love you, silly. You're my Mate. If you were never coming back to where I was, I'd just have to go where you were."

"Mione-"

"It came close. A few times. I never remembered doing it, but people would find me at the top of the Astronomy tower or submerged in a bath with no sign of intent to resurface. I didn't know or realize I was doing any of it. I just did. I think it was my soul trying to get back to yours."

Draco didn't know what to say. What could he say? He could tell her he would never leave again, but what was the likelihood of that? It was a pie crust promise-easily made and easily broken. "I missed you."

"I miss you too, Draco."

"But you don't have to miss me anymore, I'm right here."

"For now. But you won't be once I wake up. I hope I never do." The brunette admitted.

"You can't 'wake up', 'Mione, you're already awake."

"I don't believe you." She said quietly.

"Please, 'Mione, you can feel me right here, I AM RIGHT HERE, just open your eyes!" Draco pleaded.

Hermione's voice was filled with tears... "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because if I open my eyes and you disappear... I just can't do it."

"I won't disappear, I promise," Draco assured her. "Please, 'Mione, trust me," he begged, "just open your eyes."

Hermione knitted her brows together in worry and bit her lip. "I love you," she said and with all her willpower behind her...she let her eyes slide open.

"See?" Draco whispered, his bloodstained eyes meeting her teary ones. "I'm right here," he finished, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. Hermione stared up at him in disbelief, crying as one dying would if given new life. She took in his platinum hair, his milky skin, his stormy eyes drowning in red tears.

"It's really you." Hermione could barely breathe.

"It's me," Draco responded, closing his eyes against a fresh torrent of tears. "I'm so sorry, 'Mione."

"I know."

"I love you."

"Oh, gods-Draco, I love you," Hermione sobbed just before their lips crashed together as they finally gave in to gravity, to the invisible force that pulled them together. Like the waves that crash against the shore, this kiss washed away the weeks they had spent apart, the broken pieces of the old dream that had become reality and the nightmares that had never come true. The tide of their love cleaned the littered shores of their souls as the two halves of one whole finally met and were one. Their tears mingled on their cheeks as their hands clutched at each other's bodies.

"I don't know how I made it without you," Draco admitted breathlessly when the need for air became too great. "I don't want to leave like that ever again."

"So don't."

"What if... 'Mione, this isn't going to be the last time I'm ever hurt."

"I know." Hermione stared unblinkingly into his eyes. "Just make it the last time you ever leave without me."

"Deal." Draco nodded and their lips met again in the kiss of lovers who know that, in actuality, very little is "going to be okay".

The sunlight that streamed in through the window tickled Hermione's face, waking her slowly in the haze of the morning. She sighed contentedly and stretched, her hand crashing into Draco's face consequently. "I'm sorry!" she gasped, making the Vampire chuckle.

"It's fine," Draco excused. "Did you know you're really beautiful when you sleep?"

"I could say the same for you."

"Ha, sorry, but I think I've slept enough to stay awake for weeks now."

"I hope not."

"How come?"

"I like falling asleep with you."

Draco smiled and stroked Hermione's hair lovingly. "Alright then."

...

"What time is it?" Hermione yawned.

"A little just before six."

"Hm, up in time for breakfast." Hermione noted. "Are you going to go back to classes?"

"I'm so behind, aren't I?" Draco worried.

"Not really. The classes are easy; I'm sure you know already most of what we've covered and, in any case, I can always tutor you." Hermione assured him.

"Ooo, 'Professor Granger?'... I like the sound of that," Draco mused, earning a swat from Hermione.

"Come on, Draco, I'm hungry. Perhaps we'll see your father in the Great Hall."

"Oh," Draco paused for a moment. "How...how is he?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to respond. "He's been hopeful. He's a lot stronger than I ever expected."

"I guess he has to be," Draco said quietly. "You go on ahead, I'm going to notify Madame Pompfrey that I'm..."

"Okay," Hermione said when he trailed off. "I'll wait for you, though."

"Okay." Draco made for the door to the mediwitch's office slowly, but once he had his fist raised, ready to knock on the door, he realized he couldn't bring himself to face the woman that would have seen the horrible things that happened to him. The Slytherin scribbled a note quickly, explaining his return to reality and left it on his empty bed. He carded a hand through his hair, waved a hand over his clothes and-dressed comfortably in his Slytherin robes once more-made his way out of the hospital wing.

"Everything alright?" Hermione asked when he appeared at her side.

"Mhm," Draco nodded and kissed the top of her head affectionately. "Let's go, Hungry."

The Great Hall was completely silent when Draco and Hermione walked in. For one thing, no one had seen Draco conscious in almost four months and to add to that-he was holding hands with Hermione Granger. Though almost the entire school knew Draco wasn't human, there were several rumors as to what had happened to him that put him in the hospital wing and what he was now; thankfully none really hit the mark. The closest people got to the truth was information squeezed out of kids with parents in the Inner Circle. No matter what anyone thought, though-no one approved.

"Come sit with me today," Hermione requested and Draco allowed himself to be led over to the Gryffindor table where Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Lavender did their best to make room. The sight of hot food in front of him make his mouth water and he fell to the eggs and sausaged with fervor that made everyone smile. Slowly, the buss in the Great Hall resumed and the tension eased slightly as smiled were exchanged around the tables.

"It's good to see you up and about, Draco," Harry said warmly, receiving "hmm"s of agreement from those nearby.

"It's good to taste real food," Draco replied, earning laughter from the Gryffindors.

"You really ought to slow down," Luna warned, "you'll be sick if you eat all that," she gestured to the sausages.

"Won't you be sick if you eat it anyway?" Ron asked. "I mean...you drink blood-that's your food, isn't it?"

"It's all I need to survive on, but I can eat human food as well. As Vampires age though, they lose their taste for human food because their Mate's blood is so much better."

"I thought most Vampires don't because it's like feeding a dog chocolate," Luna said confusedly. "They can eat it and enjoy it, but then-"

"Don't you belong at the Ravenclaw table?" Draco interrupted.

"I like to sit at all the tables once out of every day of the week, besides, you're a Slytherin and you're here."

"Then what?" Ginny wondered. "They enjoy it, but then what?"

"Then they puke it all up later," Luna informed her friend quickly.

"Jeez, Draco, are you sure you want to keep eating like that?" Harry asked.

"Draco, you really ought to stop," added Hermione.

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, Draco,"

"Mhm," Murmurs of assent were heard around the table. Draco simply sniffed, turning up his chin and putting another forkful of eggs in his mouth. He chewed triumphantly as though he had just won some arguement. Everyone laughed and shook their heads at him when he stuck his tongue out at them. It was an obviously lost battle. It was clear to everyone that Draco Malfoy was back.


	15. Infinite Sorrows

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head table that January morning as he had almost every morning for the past two months. At first, he had insisted on taking breakfast next to his son, but after that first month, Lucius could no longer stand it. He pushed some eggs around on his plate, not quite hungry.

"Lucius, do not play with your food. It is unbecoming of your character." Severus admonished quietly, though his tone had lost its usual venom. Lucius sighed and dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. "Honestly," the Potions Master huffed. "One would think you would be happy this morning."

"How can you say that, Severus?" Lucius snapped. "My son is comatose, completely nonresponsive, partly because of me."

"Oh? Have you even looked at who is gracing us with his presence in the Great Hall today? Perhaps you are losing your Death Eater constant vigilance."

Lucius looked up at his companion's remark and froze at what he saw. As a Malfoy, he was not only a master of Occlumency, but he was incredibly skilled at masking his emotions. Most of the wizarding world wondered if he even had any emotions at all. Hence, it was quite a shock to anyone who noticed that, amidst a crowd of people, Lucius Malfoy began to cry.

There was his son, there was his Draco, smiling and laughing with his friends. It was as though he had never left. How many times had Lucius looked up and wished to see a scene just like the one he was now presented with? Hermione looked up and saw him looking. She elbowed Draco who looked over and smiled. 'Good morning,' he mouthed before turning back to his food. Lucius was filled with such an overwhelming relief, his attempts to hold back his tears were as successful as his attempts to hold back the ocean from the shore. His cheeks dampened with moisture as his tears streamed from his eyes. Unable to withstand the embarrassment, he excused himself from the table and left through the door to the side. He collapsed against a wall in the small corridor and sobbed to himself out of relief, surprise, happiness and sheer pain.

"I know." A consoling hand was placed on his shoulder and Lucius looked up into the vibrant green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"How can I possibly tell him? How can I break the news to him after he has been through so much and come out alright? How can I tell him that after everything he went through, the Dark Lord still murdered his mother!" Lucius cried, his voice breaking with emotion. Harry cried with him, feeling his pain in all of his heart.

"I don't know, Mr. Malfoy." Harry did not know what he should do. It was not every day that one found oneself squatting by a broken down Lucius Malfoy trying to comfort him. Deciding to take a chance, Harry wrapped his arms around the older man and gave him a warm hug. "Shhh, it will be okay," he said softly as he rubbed soothing circles on his back.

"Will it?" Lucius sobbed, clinging to Harry like a lifeline. Harry closed his eyes against a fresh torrent of tears.

"Of course it will." If it was the last thing that Harry Potter did, he would make sure that Voldemort died a very painful death and paid for every single hurt he caused the man he held in his arms.

Hermione cringed again as the sound of Draco's retching crashed upon her ears. He'd been hung over the toilet for a good half hour now, but of course Hermione wouldn't say anything. Draco had chosen this and, mate or not, she'd get her head bitten off if she said one word against it. After a few more moments, Draco emerged from the bathroom, a tinge of green gracing his pale complexion.

"All better?" Hermione asked, holding back a smirk.

"Of course," Draco responded coolly and moved to join her on the sofa. She closed her book, keeping her finger between the pages as a bookmark and snuggled into him before reopening the textbook.

"Come on, 'Mione, I thought you loved me!" Draco groaned at the sight of the arithmancy volume.

"Of course I do—that's one more reason for me to help you with this. You'll never pass your O.W.L.s unless you study."

"Who says I need to pass?" Draco mused.

"Don't be silly; how are you going to get a job if you don't pass the necessary exams?"

"Who is going to hire a Vampire, 'Mione?" Silence fell between them for a moment. "I'm sorry for snapping," Draco said finally.

"No, it's alright." Hermione replied, closing the textbook. "It's nothing new anyways…" Draco kissed the top of her head lovingly.

"Let's just sit here for awhile, why don't we? It's been awhile since I held you in my arms."

"You held me just this morning," Hermione pointed out, though she smiled just the same.

"Precisely," Draco responded, "it's been hours!"

Hermione giggled at his antics and turned her face into his chest. "I love you, y'know," she said, her voice muffled by his sweater.

"Good," Draco replied. "Because if you didn't, this would be really awkward." The sweet sound of Hermione's laughter fell on Draco's ears and infected him with happiness. They sat there, comfortable in each other's embrace, not needing to say anything. Not even the dark, looming future dampened their spirits.

"I felt so bad for him…" Harry said quietly to his boyfriend who was busy getting dressed.

"It's Lucius Malfoy, Harry." Bill countered dismissively.

"So?"

"So the man is You-Know-Who's right hand. You can't afford to trust him."

"How can you say that? He just lost his wife and now that he finally has his son back, he knows he can do nothing to keep him from Voldemort's crazed torture sessions!" Harry rolled his eyes when Bill flinched at the Dark Lord's name.

"Look, Harry, you're too trusting of people. That man is dangerous, I'm telling you." Bill spoke as though he were dealing with a small, stubborn child. "Do you know where my tie went?"

"Bill, Lucius Malfoy has endured too much for me not to feel sympathy for him. If anything, I know I can trust him! I have felt his emotions as easily as I have felt yours!" Harry felt his temper rising. Bill had no right to put down someone who had lost so much so quickly. "I know I can trust him!"

"No, you don't, Harry. He could be fooling you."

"Are you saying I'm gullible?"

"No, just that you don't always know who or what you're dealing with. Now, I want you to stay away from Malfoy. I'm not asking you." Bill told Harry as he straightened his tie.

"You're not my father, you cannot tell me what to do as though you own me!"

"Stop being so dramatic," Bill reproached. "You don't always know what's best for you."

"I am not a child, Bill; I can make my own bloody decisions."

"Decisions that often get you into trouble!"

"Like what?"

"Oh, let's see, following Quirrel to get the Philosopher's Stone, running into the Chamber of Secrets to face a bloody Basilisk, putting your name in the Goblet of Fire—"

"I did not put my name in that Goblet!" Harry exploded. "And what else would you have had me done those years? Let Voldemort have eternal life? Let your sister Ginny die? Let down a whole mess of people for my own good?"

"Your survival ensures the survival of millions. Only you can kill You-Know-Who. We need you alive!"

"Is that all I am to you? A fucking weapon?"

"No—I—"

"Get out."

"Harry, stop b—"

"I said get out!" Harry shouted making the glass in the windows crack.

"Fine," Bill huffed. "You were a lousy fuck anyway." And with that, the redhead was gone and Harry was alone.

It was getting late in the afternoon and Lucius Malfoy was headed up to his son's rooms. He had been avoiding it all day. It wasn't that he didn't wish to see his only child after recovering from months of nothingness. He just didn't know how to face Draco with the news he had. Still, Draco needed to know and the sooner the better…At least, that's how Lucius hoped it was. The elder Malfoy paused at the portrait and contemplated turning back.

"Are you just going to stand there or will you be coming in?" the lady in the portrait wondered as she rocked her sleeping baby. Lucius looked up at her, startled, and knitted his brows together.

"I suppose I must go in," he said reluctantly.

"Password?"

"What?" Lucius shook his head, not paying any attention to anything.

"If you're going to go in, you'll need to give me the password," the portrait drawled impatiently. "Come on now, I haven't got all day."

"What are you talking about, 'you haven't got all day'? All you've got is the day, what else have you got to do but sit in that painting?" Lucius snapped.

"Well, if that's how you feel about it, I can leave and you can sit and wait for one of them to come out and realize you are here."

"That's ridiculous, I could knock and they would answer."

"I'm sure; you really look like you have the courage to knock on this door. Why else would you be stalling and not just giving me the bloody password? You're scared to go inside."

As snide as the portrait was being, she was partially correct. Lucius was scared…scared of hurting Draco more than he could bear to be hurt. Lucius looked up at the annoyed portrait and was tempted to hex that look straight off her face… but all that came out of his mouth was, "Draconis quan dormiens." The portrait swung open and Lucius stepped in.

Draco and Hermione were on the sofa, or rather, Draco was on the sofa and Hermione was on Draco. His face was hidden, apparently buried in her neck as she straddled his lap, her head fallen back and her eyes closed, lips apart in a soft moan as she frotted against her lover. Lucius' eyes flitted around, not sure how to interrupt a feeding Vampire. That scene surely couldn't be pretty… But this was scandalous and uncomfortable! Lucius steeled his nerves and cleared his throat loudly enough so that they could hear him. Hermione's eyes snapped open and her brows furrowed together. The look on her face was one of complete frustration. "I really want to spare you the sight, but he's not stopping and I'm enjoying it," was written all over her face. Lucius almost laughed, but he did his best to keep things serious. Hermione closed her eyes again, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as her body betrayed her and continued to grind itself against the Vampire suckling at her throat.

"Draco," she tried to say something, to alert him that his father was watching, but it came out as a broken moan. "Draco, your father is here!" Hermione gasped, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling it desperately to get him to back off. She didn't want him to stop…but she really wanted him to stop! It was all very annoying. Draco sensed this and finally conceded to her will. He pulled back, retracting his fangs and licked the wound closed, pleased to see a purpled love bite resting where he'd been. He nuzzled the flesh affectionately and kissed it before taking his face from her neck.

"Did you say something, luv?" the Vampire asked with a smirk, giving her a quick kiss.

"Um, your… father is, err, here," Hermione stumbled through the fog of Draco's allure.

"Yes," Lucius spoke up. "And it's quite rude to seduce someone in front of your parent, I daresay."

"Even when the person you're seducing is so," Draco licked his lips, "delicious?" Hermione melted against him and kissed the side of his face, she kissed his neck and his eyebrow and his earlobes and whatever skin she could get to. She couldn't help herself; it was as if she were possessed.

"Yes, even then. I don't think Miss Granger appreciates you allowing her to make a spectacle of herself." Lucius pointed out.

"You interrupted us, if you weren't here, then she would still be doing what I have missed out on for a long time," Draco parried, practically whining.

"Then I will leave, if you really want me to…" Lucius offered, knowing the answer.

"No, don't go, I didn't mean it, Daddy!" Draco fawned, chuckling. "C'mon, go ahead and sit. We can talk after I calm my Mate down a bit." Draco proceeded to pull his allure back, bit by bit, allowing clarity to resume its place in Hermione's mind. He kissed her forehead and moved her off his lap to sit next to him where she, upon realizing the scene she had presented to Draco's father, blushed an amazing shade of crimson.

"You're beautiful when you blush," Draco whispered to her and kissed the top of her head. She relaxed a bit against him and he smiled at his father who was now seated in the loveseat across. "It's good to see you again."

Lucius fought to keep his self control. "It's good to see you, too, Draco. I… I've missed you." The older man looked down at his feet. Draco left Hermione on the sofa and knelt by his father's knee.

"I missed you too." Lucius looked at him, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. Why did he have to come with such bad news? "What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"I…I've got…something to tell you," Lucius admitted with despair.

"Well, I—" Draco was interrupted by a knock at the door followed by some screeching by the portrait who was scandalized by being knocked on.

"Who could that be?" Draco wondered as he got up. When the portrait swung open, the offender standing there was none other than the legendary Harry Potter.

"Hi, Draco… Lucius is in there, isn't he?" It wasn't a question.

"Yes, umm… would you like to come in?" Draco asked more out of politeness than because he wanted Potter in his room. True, he'd forged a truce with the man, but he was sort of interrupting something important.

"Thank you, Draco." Harry stepped into the room quickly and made his way to the elder Malfoy with purpose. He squeezed himself onto the loveseat with the older man and put his hand on his knee. "It will be easier if you just say it," He offered comfortingly.

"No it won't," Lucius replied dryly.

"You have to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Draco didn't know how he felt about Harry Potter knowing something he didn't… or Harry Potter touching his father so intimately. The two looked at him as though they hadn't noticed he was there.

"Go on, Lucius," Harry urged softly, taking some of his nervousness into himself to help. Everyone in the room was surprised by Harry's use of Lucius' first name, but no one said anything. The two Malfoys finally met each other's gazes and Lucius took a breath, trying to find his voice.

"Draco… It's about your mother…"

"Is she all right?"

"Well..."

"What happened?"

"The night you were…initiated… Voldemort decided that I was not as strong as I should have been. He said I should not have shown my weakness; that I should have appeared not to care for you or Narcissa… He said I needed to be taught a lesson."

"What did he do?" Draco's voice began to shake. Lucius carded a nervous hand through his long hair. Harry squeezed his knee, taking some of his pain to make it easier.

"While I helped Poppy heal you in the Hospital Wing… He ordered the Death Eaters at the house—Rookwood and Yaxley—he ordered them to…"

"What did they do?" Draco demanded. Lucius looked up at him, his eyes seeming to be begging his son not to ask such a question. "What did they do?" the young Slytherin repeated.

"They…killed her." Lucius' voice was hardly above a whisper, but the words seemed to hang in the air, waiting to be taken back or proved false.

"But… he said…. He said if I…" Draco couldn't believe it. He'd spent three and a half months in a healing coma, trying to come to terms with what had happened to him. He had consoled himself with the thought that he had done it to keep his mother alive and that it would be worth it to see her alive and well…

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Lucius did not know what to say. He had had a few months to cope, at least, but Draco had only just gotten over one night.

"Did she… Was she… Did she go peacefully?" Draco stared at his hands, seeing them coated in his own blood again for a moment.

Lucius was silent. He looked at Harry and the Gryffindor again, took some of the burden. "No," Harry said quietly. Half a broken sob escaped from Draco's mouth and he held his head in his hands, pulling his hair at the roots. Hermione put her arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm… I'm so sorry." It was all she could think of to say.

"Me too," Draco whispered.

Lucius stared at his son, his heart breaking as he wished that he could alleviate his son's pain somehow. Harry turned his face so the blond could look at him. "I can do it," he said.

"It's far too dangerous," Lucius protested, but it was half-hearted.

"I can do it," Harry persisted.

"Do what?" asked Draco.

"I can help you deal with the pain." Harry stared seriously into Draco's eyes and could tell that the blond could not believe him. He understood that Draco felt as though nothing would ever get rid of his pain. The Gryffindor simply moved over to Draco and knelt before him. Hermione moved to the other side of the couch and watched as Harry put his hands on Draco's face. He smiled wistfully and whispered, "It will be okay."

Harry closed his eyes and allowed Draco's emotion to flow into him. Immediately, he was assaulted by the rush of pain gathering in his body. Draco's loss, his despair, his longing and pain he held inside fled his body and poured into Harry's. Harry cried out, wanting to take his hands away, but determined not to. For each of Draco's emotional hurts, Harry gained another physical wound. Hermione and Lucius watched in horror as lacerations bloomed on Harry's arms and face, his lips cracked open and his ears and nose began to bleed. A horrible cracking sound met their ears and Lucius stood. He rushed to Harry and pried his hands off of Draco. The Boy-Who-Lived smiled weakly up at Lucius, tears making the blood on his face run everywhere.

"How do you feel, Draco?" Hermione asked. Draco looked from Harry to her and back again. He closed his eyes against fresh tears, touched by what Harry had done for him. "Draco?" Hermione prompted again and he faced her.

"Peaceful," he said softly and then took Harry in his arms. With a murmured thank you, that perhaps only the Golden Boy heard, Draco Malfoy carried Harry Potter out of his room and to the Hospital Wing.


	16. The Call

Harry cracked his eyes open to an empty hospital wing. It was silent and sterile and completely depressing. For once, there were no get well cards or surprise candies. There was only the silence of the hospital wing in the morning. Harry sighed and rolled over, instantly causing a sharp pain to bloom in his ribs. He gasped and cradled his side.

"Harry!" Lucius rushed to his side, to help him.

"Lucius!" Harry's eyes bulged in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Draco brought you here."

There was an awkward silence as Harry tried to make sense of that. "So…what are you doing here?" He repeated, finally.

Lucius shifted his weight imperceptibly out of nervousness. "I've been watching you—well, I mean, not watching you—I mean, err…" Harry smiled at Lucius' stumbling. The blond cleared his throat and spoke down his nose at the boy, "Someone had to stay and keep an eye on you and Draco was busy."

"Madame Pompfrey could have watched me," Harry started, but then glimpsing a well hidden tint of hurt in Lucius' eyes, continued, "but it means a lot to me that you are here…I thought Malfoys didn't stammer," the Gryffindor smiled ruefully. Lucius cringed, caught being a human for once. "It's okay," Harry said softly. "Can you help me sit up?"

Lucius placed a hand on the small of Harry's back, cursing the blush that crept up his throat to his cheeks. He wondered if Harry understood what he was feeling, when not even he understood completely. Lucius eased the young man up and helped him scoot back onto the pillows, which he propped up on the headboard. "Thank you." Harry's voice was soft and hoarse, but sweet.

"Can I get you anything?"

"A glass of water, perhaps?" Lucius transfigured a glass and filled it with water for Harry, secretly and silently relishing the moment that their fingers brushed each other's as he handed him the glass.

"How do you feel?" the elder Malfoy inquired as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I…" Harry didn't really know how he felt. At length, he shrugged and smiled, drinking some more water.

"How did you know I was in Draco's room?" Lucius asked suddenly.

"I felt terrible confliction. It made my stomach ache; it was better in my interest to ease that."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I… I don't know. I just had a hunch. I was pretty sure once I started getting close to Draco's room."

"If you thought it was me… why did you come?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"You and I are not what most would consider friends—"

"We aren't?" Harry's voice was barely above a whisper, but it struck Lucius' heart. He instantly wished he hadn't said anything at all, but he had… What could he do now? What was a Malfoy to do when backed into a corner? Alas, the only thing Lucius knew how to do in that instant was lash out.

"Surely, Potter, you are not so blind as to think that we are friends."

"Well, I just thought… Surely not good friends, I know, but… well…" Harry trailed off, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere.

"Thought what? That reading my emotions made you my friend?"

"Stop."

"Mr. Potter, I am a man of stature. It would be inappropriate for me to consort with someone so young."

"Stop."

"I'm simply stating the obvious; that we were never anything more than enemies who put down their weapons, so to speak, for a truce."

"STOP IT." Harry's voice was hard and unforgiving. "I can FEEL you! Why are you doing this?"

Lucius was shocked by Harry's outburst, but gave no hint as to understanding his words. "Doing what?"

"Lying to me? To yourself?" Harry looked at him, his fiery emerald green eyes boring into Lucius' soul. He could see right through him. "Why are you pretending that the comfort I gave you meant nothing? Why did you stay this whole time in the hospital wing?"

"I owed you a favor for what you did for Draco. I needed to repay you somehow. I stayed to keep my honor intact." Lies slipped from Lucius' mouth before he even thought about them.

"Damn it, Lucius!" Harry stood from the bed, wobbling on weak legs. "Why can't you tell me the truth!" The pain in his body was nothing compared to the pain in his chest. He didn't understand it, and that's what made it worse. It was only partly his, it was mostly from Lucius, but why such sorrow? It made Harry's skin crawl uncomfortably and made him want to cry.

"I am telling you the truth, you refuse to accept it." Lucius spoke without looking at Harry. He gazed over his head, keeping a neutral, cold expression.

"No." Harry breathed. "No!" He grabbed Lucius' hand, pressing their palms together—skin to skin. "This is what I cannot accept!" He pushed heartbreak into Lucius' body and the elder Malfoy shut his eyes against the influx of emotion. "This is what you are doing!" He shoved bitterness and anger in, all the emotions he felt since Lucius' arrival. "This is what you are destroying!" Harry's voice broke as he finally pushed in a single, thin, breakable strand of love into Lucius. It was such a small amount, it almost hurt just to have it, but as soon as it was gone, Lucius wanted it back. Harry shoved Lucius away. "Why are you lying?"

"This isn't ethical, Potter, these emotions are just remnants of your pent up emotions from that Weasley. I will not allow you to use your powers to take them out on me." Lucius' words were knives of ice rammed into Harry's gut. He wanted to stop, he wanted to take the words back...but he couldn't. He didn't know what to say or what he could say. All he could do was stare at the boy who had pressed their hands together, who could have read his every emotion, who could have taken a peek into his heart and still didn't. All he could do was gape at the boy who had shown him everything he wanted and just how he could never have it. Lucius watched Harry close his eyes against a flood of tears as he turned away. Lucius watched him walk away from him, leaving him alone. He listened to the footsteps grow faint until the door swung shut behind them and Lucius was alone in the silence.

...

Draco sat in Potions, not paying attention at all while Hermione scribbled notes in one of her books, no doubt small facts she already knew. He pulled a slip of parchment from his bag and dipped his quill. He slid the paper over to Hermione and watched for her reaction.

**_Why are we in here? We know all this. Your lessons put us months ahead of all our classes. We could be in our rooms right now, enjoying time alone…_**

Hermione blushed slightly and scripted a quick reply.

_Are all vampires this randy, or is it just you?  
_

**_Don't you already know the answer to that?_**

_It's good for us to go to class; it gives us something to do during the day._

_**I should be with you during the day**._

_I'd feel bad not going to classes when we are perfectly capable of it._

_**What if I'm not capable of it? I need you.**_

Hermione shivered_. Stop it, you're distracting me._

**_You mean exciting you?_**

_Stop it._

**_I'm sorry, love. Am I making you wet?_**

_Don't flatter yourself._

**_I have no effect on you, whatsoever?_**

_Decidedly not._

_How about now? _Draco let some of his allure slip out. Hermione dug her fingernails into the table as the effects of it hit her. She grinned and tried to focus her thoughts; to clear her head.

iMaybe a little bit./i She conceded, then suddenly the feeling was gone. "Draco?" she whispered.

Draco was clutching his arm, his forehead pressed to the desk as he tried to endure the pain silently. "It's him, 'Mione. He's calling."

"It's a school day!" Hermione whispered, feeling ridiculous even as she said it.

"I have to go."

"I know."

"I don't know when I'll be back."

"You will come back to me."

"I'll be hungry…"

"You can come to me, or, if you're starved, ask Snape. He brewed a substitute for you, in case you would need more than I can give."

"I know."

There was a long pause between them. The pain in Draco's arm became worse, it felt as though he was being branded all over again. "I have to go now."

"Hurry."

"I love you."

"I love you."

Draco raised his eyes, to catch Snape's gaze. The professor nodded in understanding and Draco left, allowing a small, fleeting kiss for Hermione before he headed out of the classroom and towards the apparition point at the border of the grounds.

"Draco, how nice of you to grace us with your presence."

"It is an honor to be here, milord." Draco kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke.

"Raise your face, Draco; I'd like to see your pretty eyes." Draco lifted his chin, careful to keep his eyes on the floor. "Now, now, Draco, let me see your eyes." Draco closed his eyes and took a breath…could he do it? Could he face the man who had scarred him so deeply?...No. He didn't think he could…but he had to. Draco opened his silver eyes to the Dark Lord and stared into his piercing, red eyes. His visage was grotesque to behold; his skin as smooth as gravel and his teeth as white as sewage and his voice, his voice was a grating rasp of noise that turned Draco's guts like angry snakes as he spoke, "Ah, that's better."

"How may I serve you, milord?" Draco's voice was hardly above a whisper.

"I have received word that you are becoming…close to Harry Potter and his friends."

Draco waited, trying to make sure that it was appropriate for him to respond to the charge. "It seemed of the highest interest for me to keep yo-_our _enemies close."

"Ah, yes, Draco, how smart of you." Voldemort intoned as he stroked the side of the vampire's face, his long nails scratching lightly against the otherwise flawless opalescent skin. "That's why I want you to bring him to me."

"Bring Harry Potter to you?" Draco's shock caused him to speak out of turn and as soon as he spoke, he wished he had not.

Voldemort left his chair and seemed to be instantly by Draco. His face was mere centimeters away, his stinking breath ghosting over Draco's ear. "Were you not listening to me? Do I need to repeat myself?"

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, trying to control the fear that welled up inside of him. "No, milord."

"You will bring me Harry Potter," Voldemort paused, rubbing his cheek against Draco's, making the blond want to gag, "or I will kill the mudblood."

"I'm sorry, milord?" Draco tried to keep the fright out of his voice—was he talking about Hermione?

Pain blossomed in Draco's cheek as Voldemort whipped his hand across the boy's face. "Surely you do not think me so blind, Draco," he spat.

"No, milord," Draco did not sit up; he stayed down.

"Certainly, you did not think," Voldemort crouched over Draco, "that I would not find out about your…girlfriend," Voldemort's lips curled as he spoke the word, as though it were below him.

"No, milord."

"WHY HAVE YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME?"

Draco flinched at the force of the Dark Lord's words. "I did not mean to keep a secret; the information wasn't important. I do not care for the m-mudblood," Draco stumbled over the word, "she was a cover for me—to get me closer to Potter—that's all. I could never care for such a…filthy…c-creature…" Draco wanted to tear out his tongue for allowing it to utter such profanities, but he could not.

"Oh, Draco," Voldemort crooned and ran his fingers through Draco's growing blond hair. "Sometimes I fear you are too smart for your own good." Draco bit his tongue, desperately holding onto whatever nerve he had left. "I am going to whip you, boy," Voldemort said. "And when I have whipped you to my liking, I am going to use you the way you like to be used." Draco gulped, the fear in his gut starting to take over. "When I have dismissed you tonight, you will go back to the castle and get closer to Potter. You have one month to bring him to me. If he is not in my hands by the twenty eighth of February, she will die."

Silent tears spilled down Draco's cheeks. "Yes, milord."

Voldemort smiled, spying the vampire's tears, and leaned down to the boy's face. He opened his mouth and dragged the tip of his tongue along his cheek, tasting Draco's tears. "Why do you cry?"

Draco wanted to vomit; he was sure he would be sick, but he stifled the bile rising in his throat and responded, as he knew he had to, "Out of happiness, milord. You…bless me with your touch." Draco bit back a whimper.

"Oh Draco, you flatter me." The Dark Lord stood, towering over a shivering Draco Malfoy and his smile widened. "You always had such a pretty little mouth… I think we shall put that to good use tonight."

...

Harry stood before the mirror in the boy's lavatory, examining himself. His black hair was not thin or wispy, it was thick and untamable. It did not lie on his head quietly, but stood at every angle; a mess no matter how he tried to brush it and ruled only by incredible amounts of product. His face was skinny and his lips were red and pouty like a child's. His shoulders were small and his chest undefined, his legs as willowy and thin as his arms. The piercings in his ears glinted in the light, as did the one on his lip. They did not diminish his features, nor enhance them. They were as ornamental as wheat on a plain of green grass. Harry tilted his face to the left, then to the right, analyzing the angles of his face. Was he… handsome? Could he be loved? He sighed and left the bathroom.

The corridors were infinitely quiet as he walked, but he didn't mind. It gave him the opportunity to sort through his own thoughts and emotion. Too much of the time, he felt clouded by other people's feelings and, though he tried, could never block enough of it out to truly feel at peace. Now, alone as he was, Harry felt very little compared to the tumult of emotion he had become used to. He could not keep at bay the feeling of longing for parents to talk to, a luxury he'd wished for all his life. He could not smother the feeling of rejection from Lucius, or the feelings of worry for Hermione and Draco. Harry walked and walked, pondering these emotions, even as he reached the dungeons, well after curfew, he still had not found an easy solution. Perhaps he could talk to Lucius?...alas, Harry knew that Lucius would only respond with hurtful remarks to save his own pride. He did not know how to surrender to his emotion.

The castle was cold and Harry shivered, drawing his cloak more tightly around him. He figured he should probably start heading back to the common room. As he turned, he was overwhelmed by desire. It hit him like a tsunami, drowning him in need. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a hold of his own emotions and separate them from whoever he was feeling, but the desire was too strong. It pushed everything else he felt aside and stirred any shred of want he had in him, no matter how faint, it was now an enormous thirst. Harry knelt by the wall, breathing deeply, trying to quell the emotions currently wreaking havoc on his body.

"Harry?" Lucius rounded the corner and Harry's eyes widened to the size of small saucers.

"Lucius!" Harry hated that it sounded like a moan. "What are you doing here? Go away!"

"Well, my rooms are right around here-Harry, are you all right?" Lucius hurried forward, closing the distance between them and causing Harry to squirm away. "What's wrong?"

"Lucius, please," Harry said breathlessly, "I can't control myself."

"Why, what's going on? What do you mean?"

"I feel—someone feels… well…" Harry blushed furiously.

"What is it? Is it painful? Oh Merlin, is someone in trouble?" Lucius looked around; they were only a few feet away from Severus Snape's chambers. "Severus!"

"LUCIUS, NO!" Harry shouted, "No one is in trouble!"

"Then what's wrong?"

"I think Snape and Lupin are…" Harry didn't want to finish that sentence. He was getting more turned on by the minute.

"Are what?" Lucius put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Harry, tell me what's wrong!"

"Oh, fuck, Lucius," Harry murmured.

The elder Malfoy's eyes bulged. "Excuse me?"

Harry looked up into his grey-blue eyes and couldn't hold back. In one breath, he framed Lucius' face with his hands and pulled him in for a forceful kiss. It felt as though his blood had never run before. The desire coursing through him intensified as Harry slowly gave in and he pushed his tongue into Lucius' mouth. He moaned at the sensation as their tongues mingled together for a moment before Harry became too aware of what he was doing and pulled away abruptly. "Oh, Lucius, I'm so sorry!" His voice was low and skirted the border between clean and positively obscene.

"Harry," Lucius gulped. "Why did you—"

"Oh, fuck, Lucius, please don't speak; that only makes this worse." Harry squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position with his aching erection. There was a terribly awkward, heavy silence between them. "Just wait, it'll pass." Harry said finally. His insides were aflame with lust; pure, unadulterated lust. Harry's toes curled under and his muscles tensed as he squirmed, his legs turning over each other, his thighs brushing his erection ever so slightly. He whimpered softly.

"Harry," Lucius' voice glided over Harry's ears like smooth velvet, "is there anything I can do?"

"Erm, I…" Harry didn't know what to say. "I can't think of anything that's… appropriate." Lucius sighed at Harry's choice of words.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' Lucius wanted to say, 'What I said the other day was unwarranted. I'm a cad, I'm indelicate, I've far too much pride, I'm not good enough for you." …But he didn't say any of those things. Lucius put a hand on Harry's chin and lifted the boy's face. Slowly, though more deliberately than unsure, Lucius leaned into Harry and carefully brushed his lips against his. "Is this… Can I do this?" Lucius murmured.

"Uhm," Harry's mind was a mess, "mhm," he mumbled and kissed Lucius. This was different than before; it was slower, almost reverent. Harry's chest swelled with emotion and his gut clenched almost painfully. One of his hands reached up to tangle in Lucius' hair while the other flew to his erection. Lucius' tongue traced Harry's lips and the Gryffindor opened his mouth for him. Lucius moaned into Harry's mouth as the blood rushed from his head to his hips. Harry was so engulfed in emotion; he couldn't tell how much desire was really his and how much was Lucius' or Lupin's or Snape's. Was any of it truly them? Was Harry just a conduit for the randy couple one room over, transferring all of their desire from himself into Lucius?

Harry pushed Lucius away reluctantly, creating a space of mere millimeters between their faces. "Maybe we should stop…" His voice was strained with slipping control.

"You don't want to do this?" Lucius' voice was full of indifference with a well masked tone of hurt.

"I can't tell the difference between my feelings and the rest," Harry hoped that Lucius wouldn't take it the wrong way. Was this his last chance to prove that he wasn't concerned about Bill anymore? What if it went too far? What if he stopped now?

"I'm sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you," Lucius started to get up, but Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

"Stop," he said and kissed him deeply. He pulled away and let their breath mingle between them. It was intoxicating. Lucius felt as though he could drink Harry in. "I don't want to stop," Harry told him, "but if we don't… I want it to be real; I want it to be special. I don't want it to be like this."

Lucius blinked, but made no other gesture. They were silent and still, remaining in each other's embrace for a little while before Lucius finally stood. "Come, I'll walk you to your room." He offered his arm and, though Harry wanted to ravish the man's mouth and collapse in a heap of passion, the Boy-Who-Lived stood on wobbly knees and allowed the older man to lead him along, back to the Gryffindor common room.


	17. Too Much

Severus Snape awoke to the sound of the bottles in his store cabinets clinking and deftly slipped himself out of his lover's embrace. Taking the briefest of moments to admire Remus' naked glory, Severus pulled on a robe, grabbed several blood supplements and took the door to leading to his classroom. "Good evening, Draco."

"Where are they?"

Severus handed over the crimson potions to the Vampire who downed them quickly. "Slow down; you'll make yourself sick," Severus advised. Draco growled at him in reply and the potions master raised an incredulous eyebrow. He was well able to conceal his fear by now. "What did he do?" The Vampire did not respond; his ire clouding his thoughts. He threw the bottles against the wall and they shattered, but it wasn't satisfying.

"You can clean that up," Severus remarked. The Vampire whipped his head around to glare at him. His eyes were pools of black, his skin a pulsating white, his fangs protruding from his top lip threateningly. In an instant, he was looming over Severus.

"You don't know what I go through," he growled.

"I know of all kinds of pain; I've endured the same curses you have," Severus intoned. "You speak out of anger. Calm down."

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" The Vampire roared, overturning a desk. "I'm not talking about physical pain! Physical pain I can heal! I could regenerate a limb faster than I could accomplish this with my conscience intact!"

Severus gulped as the Vampire's anger continued to rise. "Draco, please calm down. Let's talk."

"I DON'T WANT TO TALK! TALKING SOLVES NOTHING! ALL IT-IT NEVER-I CAN'T—" the Vampire broke off in a roar the shook the ceiling and smashed his fist through a desk. He threw whatever he could get his hands on across the room. His wings erupted from his back and the Vampire stood in the middle of the mess, towering over a potions master who was desperately trying to keep his composure. Severus could smell the Vampire's breath; he could feel the beat of his heart. He wondered about the feral gleam in his eye and hoped it was not for his blood.

"I'll go get you more supplements and then I think you should leave." Severus was afraid, but he held his head high. He walked carefully to his room, glanced worriedly at his love, so still and vulnerable, took as many supplements as he could hold and returned to his classroom. The Vampire was perched atop a desk, his wings rustling restlessly as he gazed at the ceiling, seemingly constraining the desire to fly away. When Severus entered, his head spun to pin the Slytherin with narrowed eyes.

"Here," Severus placed the bottles on the nearest up-right desk. "I'll return the room to working order, just please leave." The Vampire eyed him, his wings opening in a gesture of power. "I'm going back to my room now." Severus said and retreated slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves. When he had gone, the Vampire took the bottles of blood supplement and left. He ran, his wings shifting and begging to be put to use as he drew nearer to the doors. At last he tasted the cool night air and he leaped into the sky, air rushing to his wings and pushing him ever upward. He breathed in the sky and felt free. All too soon, the first lights of dawn began to peek over the horizon and the Vampire knew he should return to his lair. _Home_ a small voice told him, but it was so distant. The Vampire turned and headed back towards the castle.

The Vampire approached his lair-_home_-and the portrait fled in fright of him. He entered and was overwhelmed by the smell of his mate. _Hermione_ the voice said, stronger this time. The Vampire stalked to his mate, the sound of her blood rushing in his ears. _The supplements_, the thought was distant and incomplete and though a fleeting feeling of caution pitted itself in the Vampire's gut, he did not stop. He took his mate by her wrist and lifted her skin to his nose, inhaling deeply before turning his cheek in, his fangs poking dangerously at her flesh.

"Draco? Are you hungry?" Hermione's voice was low and sleepy. The Vampire tilted his head as though unable to understand but shut his eyes and continued to let the smell of his mate envelope him. "Draco, wha—" Hermione broke off in a choked scream as the Vampire bit down forcefully on her wrist. He suckled at her, gulping her blood quickly; devouring her. Hermione didn't feel the normal pleasure that she got from allowing her mate to feed from her…Something was wrong.

"Please, Draco, please stop, you're hurting me." Hermione squirmed, but the Vampire clamped a hand around her arm to keep her still as he continued to drink. Hermione gasped at his action and the pain intensified as she became more uncomfortable. "Draco, please, please, stop!"

The Vampire felt a tug in his gut, a warning, as though a part of him was slipping away, and drank more to fill the space. He drank with a fervor that scared Hermione, and she screamed for help. What happened to a Vampire never being able to hurt their mate? What was wrong with Draco? Why wouldn't he stop? Why couldn't he feel her pain; her discomfort? Was she going to die?

Hermione's throat gave way to a blood curdling scream as she realized that the Vampire would not stop—his teeth becoming knives underneath her skin. "Someone help me!" Tears spilled from her eyes as she screamed for help that didn't seem to be coming. "Please—"her voice broke, "please, Draco, please stop!" She begged, but to no avail. The Vampire did not hear her. She felt weariness seep into her muscles and a terrible coldness overcame her. "Please," her voice was no more than a whisper as the pain continued to course through her body.

Hermione collapsed against the Vampire, her eyes widening with fear and her head lolled back. She saw herself held up by her wrist as the Vampire continued to drink from her. She wondered where Draco was, she wondered if this was the last she would see of him—if it was even him at all anymore. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out; there was so much pain, so much fear, she couldn't voice it.

"Stupefy!" A shot of blue came from seemingly out of nowhere. The Vampire was caught in the neck and broke away from Hermione, ripping his fangs out messily and leaving her to bleed on the floor. "Stupefy!" again, the shot of blue, though stronger this time. The Vampire seemed affected; he stumbled back, but was not put down. "REDUCTO!" The Vampire fell backwards, vulnerable at last. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" The spell caught him in the chest and he froze.

The rescuer rushed to Hermione, gathered her in his arms and carried her away. The Vampire could be heard regaining movement as they left before the portrait closed behind them and Hermione's mind faded to blackness.

...

Draco Malfoy woke up in the middle of a disaster area. Furniture was splintered, cushions were ripped open to reveal cotton batting, and there were deep scratches adorning the walls and floors. He felt a terrible ache in his chest and abdomen, as though someone had sucked him dry inside. He tried to get up, only to fall to his knees and wretch. He wiped his mouth on his arm and attempted to stand again. Nausea hit him hard, but he steadied himself and made his way to the bedroom. Inside was worse; there was a pool of crusted blood on the carpet next to the blood sprinkled bed, but more importantly—there was no Hermione. Draco didn't think-he didn't even dress; he ran out of his room, wondering what the hell he'd done.

"What the hell happened?" were the first words out of Hermione Granger's mouth when she woke in the hospital wing. It was odd to be asking the questions instead of answering them and Hermione didn't like it. She was in pain, she was confused, but mostly she was plain frightened. Her mate hadn't stopped, hadn't heard her….he hurt her when he said it was impossible… Nothing made sense.

"Calm down, Hermione, it'll be okay." Harry sat on the edge of her cot and patted her knee. "You need your rest, why don't you lay back down? You lost a lot of blood…"

"But how! Why didn't he stop!" Hermione faltered in her exasperation and her voice fell to barely the sound of the calm breeze. "Why didn't he stop?" She examined her bandaged wrist, a thin shade of pink poking through the gauze where she assumed some blood had seeped through.

"We're not sure, 'Mione." Harry wished he had something else to say, but he didn't. "At least I was walking by. If Lucius hadn't been taking me to my room right then, I wouldn't have known to come get you." He tried to smile for her, but her face seemed to darken further.

"You shouldn't have had to come at all." To that, Harry had nothing to say.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for this," Lucius chimed in softly. "Draco isn't just a boy anymore; he's a Vampire. Something must have happened."

There was a heavy silence between them before Hermione's muted voice broke it. "Yeah…"

"Do you want to see him?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Hermione paused and searched Harry's eyes for the right answer, though she knew it wouldn't be there. At last she bowed her head and murmured, "I'm afraid of him."

"Sometimes you have to face your fears," Harry said, chancing a sideways glance at Lucius who looked away nervously. Hermione nodded and shrugged.

"If you can find him, I'll see him." She looked out the window at the clear skies and wondered what the hell had happened and if she could face Draco after it all.

"Don't worry, you can use the time to prepare yourself—" Harry had just finished his sentence when the doors to the infirmary burst open and Draco Malfoy raced to his mate's side. He pushed Harry away roughly, knocking the empath to the ground and covered Hermione's body with his own in a stifling embrace.

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably in his hold. "Are you okay?" he asked her, though he knew the answer. "Why are you here…in the hospital wing? What's wrong?"

"I just… need some space." Hermione whispered.

"From me?" Draco could not hide the hurt in his voice.

"Well…" Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "Yes."

"What have I done?" Draco's eyes were filled with despair. Hermione wanted to take the pain away, but she wasn't sure what to say. She was still so afraid, so confused, so…conflicted.

"Draco…" Harry trailed off. He knew it would be awkward, but someone had to tell him. "Draco, Hermione is here because of you."

"I gathered that, Potter," Draco spat.

"Yeah, well, you errr… You got in last night and you were kind of crazy… You just took too much blood." Harry felt so uncomfortable under Draco's gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me to stop?" Draco asked Hermione.

"I did."

"Well… did it feel that good? Wasn't there any pain?"

"Yes… there was pain… you didn't…. you didn't feel it. You didn't stop." A tear escaped the corner of Hermione's eye and slid down her cheek. She tried to wipe it away offhandedly, but it broke Draco's heart to see it. "Why didn't you stop?"

"I don't know."

"You told me you couldn't hurt me."

"I didn't think I could. There's always a pull, a sort of tug in my gut that lets me know I have to stop."

"Why didn't you listen to it?" Hermione's tone was bitter, at its kindest.

"I don't know."

"How can I trust you to ever stop in the future?"

There was an extended silence between them before Draco said, "You can't." He stood and began to leave. Hermione wanted to call to him, to reach out to him, to ask him to stay…but she couldn't. Furthermore, she wasn't sure she wanted to. So Draco left, and the only sound other than the sniffling of Hermione's nose was the thud of the door behind him.


	18. Lunchtime

It was lunchtime in the Great Hall before anyone made contact with Draco. Hermione was pushing carrots around on her plate when an owl dropped a parcel in front of her. She scanned it for curses first—enduring remarks about her paranoia from Ron—before carefully removing the brown paper wrapping. Inside was a small, unadorned black box. Hermione slid the lid off and smiled in surprise at its contents.

"What is it?" Ron leaned over to look, chewing with his mouth partially open. Hermione jerked back a little, put off by the half masticated food visible in his cheeks. She blushed, knowing it was just a part of Ron's nature and held it forward for him to see. Ron looked at the contents, then back at Hermione, then back to the contents and again to Hermione. "What is it?" He repeated dubiously. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"It's a pen." Hermione's smile warmed as she said it.

"What's a pen?" Ron was bewildered.

"It's like a quill without ink."

"How are you going to write without ink?"

"No, that's not what I meant—the ink is inside it."

"How do you get it out if it's all trapped inside? What kind of present is that?" Ron grabbed the wrapping, "Who would send something like that?" he asked as he searched for a name or note. "Huh," he said, "that's funny. All it says is, 'I'm sorry.'" Ron jumped as Hermione snatched the wrapping from him.

"Who's sorry? And for what?" Ron wondered.

"Nothing, Ron—just had a little tiff with Draco." Hermione prayed he would just drop it, but of course, he didn't.

"What did he do?" Ron asked seriously.

"Why do you assume it was his fault?" Hermione shot back defensively. "How do you know he's not just apologizing because we fought at all?"

"Wasn't it his fault?" Ron challenged.

"Well, yes, but it could have been my fault—why is it automatically his?" Hermione edged the subject of why and hoped Ron would move away from it.

"Because I don't trust him, 'Mione—just because I don't call you an idiot for being with him, doesn't mean I think the idea is smart. Just because I agree not to call him a mangy git like I think he is, doesn't mean I suddenly like him."

"But Ron, he's really changed, he's a wonderful person—"

"If he's so wonderful," Ron interrupted, "why is he apologizing? What did he do?"

"We just…" Hermione trailed off. If she told Ron, he would go after Draco, but if she didn't tell him, she might lose him as a friend. Her eyes begged him to let it go.

"What is it, Hermione? Why won't you tell me?" Ron's tone was hurt and it broke Hermione's resolve.

"He's the reason I was in the hospital wing this morning," she said quietly.

"You told me you were just nauseous—getting something for your stomach—he made you nauseous?" Ron wasn't thinking hard enough. Hermione sighed.

"No…he…he just was really hungry last night," Hermione mumbled miserably.

"Hungry?" Ron sounded shocked, his expression completely confounded for a few moments before the implications registered in his brain. "Hungry! You mean he—" Ron broke off angrily and there was a weighted silence between them. "Why did you lie to me?" The question was hushed, but still harsh.

"I didn't want you to go after Draco for this," Hermione replied. "I didn't want to worry you."

"You could have died!"

"But I didn't!"

"You could still be there, lying on one of those cots!"

"Why is that the issue? Someone else would have told you what was going on!" Hermione spoke without thinking and as soon as she had said the words, she wanted to take them back. "Wait—that didn't sound right,-"

"I thought our of anyone," Ron cut her off, "you could always tell me the truth." Ron shoved his plate away and stood. "I guess I was wrong."

"Ron, wait, please don't go!" Hermione reached for his arm, but he jerked away.

"I may not be smart, or smooth, or rich like he is, but at least I'm HUMAN. He's an animal, Hermione. And I let him have you because I thought I didn't have a chance—and now I'm not sure I even want the chance anymore!" Ron's voice rose, "I loved you—I loved you! And all he ever did was hurt you, but you still chose him!"

Students at the other tables turned their heads and craned their necks to stare as Ron's voice attracted the attention of the entire Great Hall. Hermione shifted her gaze, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on them. "Well you can have him," Ron's words were a venomous bite, "even if he kills you." Ron turned and left, his shoes stomping against the stone floor. Hermione wanted to run and follow him, but could only bring herself to turn in, hang her head and let her hair fall over her face to conceal the tears running off her cheekbones.

...

Harry was rushing to see if he could catch some lunch before it disappeared when someone called to him. He had been in a private lesson with Snape and was completely famished.

"Harry!" Harry turned to see Lucius striding towards him.

"Lucius," Harry blushed. "I…um…what's…how can I help you?" _'Gosh,' Harry thought, i'I sound like such a twit.'_

"I…well, I wondered if you would consider taking a walk with me." Even when clearly feeling awkward, Lucius was so smooth.

Harry grimaced, "I was actually going to go try and get some lunch."

"Oh," Lucius recovered quickly, "How about I treat you to something in my quarters?"

"Umm…" Harry hesitated. Of course he wanted to go to Lucius' room, but…should he?

"Don't feel obligated, Harry. I was simply—"

"No," Harry stopped him. "I'd like that."

"Right, well then, follow me." Lucius offered his arm and Harry took it, blushing furiously.

"How've you been?" Lucius inquired casually.

"Umm…" Harry paused, realizing that he was failing miserably at conversation with Lucius. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Lucius raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Well I haven't really had time for myself to consider it," Harry admitted. Lucius hummed acknowledgment. "I guess, if I think about it, I'm not so great." Harry's face fell slightly. "My best friend is involved with a troubled Vampire and there's nothing I can do to help them. I've been training so much, I've got no time for my friends…I can't remember the last time I even played chess with Ron… not to mention I'm only seventeen and there's a crazy man out to get me."

Lucius chuckled at Harry's last remark and the Gryffindor smiled. "I guess most of the time, I feel other people's happiness, so it doesn't matter that I don't feel it for myself."

Lucius wanted to correct him; to tell him that he was wrong and that his happiness was important…but he didn't know how to say those things. The words didn't form correctly in his mind and so they remained in silence until they reached the room Lucius was staying in. Lucius said the password and allowed Harry to go first.

"What would you like to eat?" the blond unbuttoned his robes at the collar and enjoyed the freedom.

"Fish and chips sounds amazing right now," Harry said as he turned to face Lucius. His eyes widened at the sight of Lucius Malfoy removing his robes. His clothes were fine and nicely pressed, but they clung to his body perfectly. Suddenly, those sophisticated, intimidating, billowing robes were offensive and Harry felt self conscious in his ill fitting uniform.

"Fish and chips?" Lucius seemed confused. Harry blushed.

"I like simple food. Have you ever had it?"

"Well… I can't say that it has ever been served as a main course in Malfoy Manor… what exactly are 'chips'?" Lucius seemed genuinely interested. Harry laughed, but realized that the older man wasn't joking and gaped at him.

"You don't know what chips are?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise, would I?"

"No… I guess not… Well, that's good then. Fish and chips for both of us." Harry smiled and Lucius shrugged.

"All right." He called for a house elf and in a few moments, the food was there—piping hot in front of them.

"There's no silverware," Lucius said, looking around disapprovingly.

"You eat it with your fingers," Harry replied, picking up a chip and taking a bite. Lucius looked horrified, but didn't say anything. "Just try it," Harry urged looked at the fried food in front of him and took off his rings before picking up one of the fried cod and taking a hesitant bite out of the end. "Here," Harry pushed tartar sauce towards him. "Dip it in this."

Lucius looked at Harry, unsure, dipped the cod in the sauce and took a larger bite. Some juice from the fish dribbled down his chin and Lucius was quick to catch it with a napkin—though not without blushing ever so slightly at his messiness. Harry grinned.

"It's good isn't it?" the Gryffindor asked proudly.

"Yes," Lucius said, as though surprised. "It actually is."

It was strange for Harry to be eating with Lucius; strange in that it was hardly strange at all. Conversation flowed between them naturally as time passed, a steady exchange of casual speech and even playful banter. Harry was amazed at the sound of his own laughter and overwhelmed by feelings of his own happiness. It was the first time in weeks he had taken time just to relax. Snape and Dumbledore were training him in every free moment that he had. He didn't hold it against them—he needed to be prepared, but it was so hard to run around attending classes, training for battle, doing homework, keeping friends and feeling everyone else's emotions every day.

Lucius and Harry sat and talked, relishing the comfort of each other's company for what seemed like mere minutes until the clock chimed at three o'clock and Harry realized they'd been talking for over two hours. "Merlin, I'll be late for training!" Harry exclaimed, grabbing his robes and looking for his shoes.

"Training?" Lucius was clearly confused. "Again?"

"Yeah," Harry grimaced, "Snape has taken me out of DADA to continue with a more advanced course."

"So you train in the morning and again in the afternoon? Twice a day?...Every day?" Lucius sounded indignant. Harry looked at him and smiled as he picked up his shoes and sat on the settee.

"Yup."

"What about classes?"

"What about them?"

"Aren't you taking them?"

"Of course!"

"But then how have you got time for anything? Have you given up on quidditch? That would be a shame… You were the only one who could beat Draco."

"No, no, no, Lucius, it's fine—I like being busy. I get up early for breakfast before classes, then I go to Transfiguration, History of Magic, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and training with Snape before lunch. Then I have a free period during which I can usually go to the library and start my homework and then I train again with Snape, then Charms, then quidditch practice, then dinner, then a private potions lesson with Snape, then I do homework and try to practice whatever I learned during the day before I get to go to sleep." Harry pulled on his shoes and stood, straightening his robes.

"Merlin's beard, man, have you no time for yourself?"

Harry smiled at Lucius' concern. "None at all."

"And you see Severus three times a day, yet you still call him by his surname? Are you not, at least in some way, friends?"

"Well… I guess we respect each other more, but we've always had our problems. I think it's just that every time he sees me, he sees my parents and it hurts him. It's too much for him to just get over it." Harry sighed, the tone of disappointment not unnoticed.

"You aren't your parents, you know." Lucius said softly.

"I know…but that's what he sees."

"Is that why you've changed your appearance so much?" Lucius was referring to the piercings and black eyeliner that lightly rimmed his eyes.

"Well, I like the way it looks," Harry said, sucking on his lip ring for a brief moment before he seemingly reminded himself not to.

"I'm not saying I don't like it, Harry," Lucius assured him. "I'm just wondering."

"I guess that might be part of the reason." Harry shifted his weight and stared at his toes.

Lucius lifted his chin to stare into his emerald eyes. "You are the first person I've met who is perfect…just as you are."

Harry beamed uncontrollably. "Thanks," he said, "for this. I needed this."

"You ought to have this every day," Lucius replied seriously. "Will you come back for dinner?"

Harry winced, "I wish I could, but now I've got more homework to do tonight. I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Lucius smoothed his shirt and kept his chin up. Harry admired the elder Malfoy for a moment before reality came back from him.

"I'm going to be late… I'm already late."

Lucius stepped closer to Harry…but not too close. "Then I suppose you must go."

Harry gulped nervously. "Yeah, I'll uh… see you later… won't I?"

"I would like that." Lucius' throat was dry. He remembered the taste of Harry's mouth and wanted it again. He wanted to grab the young wizard by his shoulders and pull him so close that he would be able to feel the same passion he'd felt the other night.

"So, I guess… I'll be going," Harry said awkwardly, unconsciously leaning into Lucius. The Slytherin reached for him; Harry shivered at the weight of Lucius' hand at his back. His emerald eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he felt Lucius applying pressure to his back. He took the directed step, his heart skipped a beat and Lucius' voice pierced his trance.

"I'll walk you out."

Harry's eyes snapped open. That single moment had lasted forever and now Harry felt the sting of a hundred years long yearning as he realized Lucius was not going to kiss him. They parted ways at the portrait, their smiles cracked dams of longing as they grew farther and farther apart, rather than closer and closer together.

"Goodbye, Lucius." _'I wish I could stay.'_

"Goodbye, Harry." _'I wish he could stay.'_

Harry looked down the corridor, knowing that he was getting later and later and Snape would yell at him and ask him if winning the war was important to him and if he thought he was making his parents proud… But he didn't go yet. "Lucius, I…" 'I had such a good time, please just kiss me and make it perfect.' Harry sighed, unable to say how he felt. Instead he reached out a tentative hand to Lucius' and touched his fingers. It was a short moment, a few seconds at most, but in those few seconds, Harry pushed the happiness, the satisfaction, the wonder, the longing and the desire that he'd felt into Lucius. All too soon, it was over and Harry spun and walked away as quickly as he could, leaving a stunned Lucius behind.


	19. Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Hermione meandered slowly through the corridors of Hogwarts castle, not particularly concerned with where she was going or when she would get there. She was not going to class; she couldn't think after the spectacle in the Great Hall. She was not going to her rooms either; Draco could be there and she really didn't want to see him. She was too confused. How could she trust Draco to keep her safe when he had just hurt her so much? How could she stay away from him when every cell in her body wanted to be near him? Oh she loved him, but was that enough when she didn't trust him?

"Hermione, what are you doing in the dungeons?" A well-groomed Remus Lupin stood before her, hands in his pockets and a curious smile gracing his lips.

"Professor Lupin," Hermione cocked her head to the side in confusion, "I might ask you the same question."

Remus laughed, "I thought for certain Harry would have told you," he trailed off while scratching nervously at his neck.

"Well, we haven't had much time to talk recently… Actually, we haven't really had a conversation in months." Hermione's eyes filled with dismay.

Remus studied her expression carefully for a moment before breaking the silence, "Why don't you come with me and we'll have a spot of tea?"

Hermione's eyes softened and she smiled a little. "I'd like that," she said and followed him down the corridor. "So when did you start living at Hogwarts again?"

"I've been here since the beginning of the term, actually, keeping very quiet in the dungeons."

"All year? How could I not have noticed?"

"Oh, I've been kept inside a lot and my Wolfsbane is a lot fresher than it used to be which increases its potency, so I'm tamer during the full moon."

Hermione hummed as she processed the information. "So, is that why you're living at Hogwarts then? To be close to Snape for a better potion?"

Remus chuckled, "Well, I am here to be closer to Severus, but not for his potions." Hermione was taken aback by his answer, but they arrived at the entrance to Remus' quarters before she could reply. Remus murmured the password and invited her in. Hermione was trying to comprehend Remus' remark before when all of her questions suddenly became insignificant as she was greeted with the sight of a very, very naked Severus Snape whistling to himself as he brewed some tea.

"I thought you'd never be back," the potions master called over his shoulder, "I made your favorite kind of tea, the special one, you know? You always make the most wonderful sounds when you dr-" Severus turned and froze midsentence as he realized he was facing a student in the nude.

Hermione squealed and covered her eyes as Severus dropped the teapot to cover his manhood. "God damn it! You didn't say you were bringing home company!"

"I didn't know you'd be naked!" Remus cried, rushing to his lover and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Now look," Severus shook his head at the spilled tea, "an entire pot of hard work wasted!"

"Are you really concerned about the tea right now!" Remus chided him as he pulled his arms out of his sleeves and draped the shirt over Severus. He was quite a bit larger than the Slytherin and the shirt was just big enough to dangle to his upper thighs. Remus kissed Severus' forehead and gave him a resigned smile. "Go get dressed; I'll put on some regular tea." Severus scowled and glared at the Werewolf, but left anyways. "You can uncover your eyes now," Remus told Hermione when Severus was gone.

Hermione slowly lowered her hands from her face, though the expression of horror was still plastered to her cheeks. "So…you and Professor Snape are…together?"

Remus grinned, "Yes, we're 'together.' He's my Mate…" Remus smiled so genuinely at the thought, Hermione almost relaxed, but a vision of her potions professor's buttocks quickly reaffirmed her disgust at the situation. "Are you all right?" Remus asked her.

"What has been seen cannot be unseen," Hermione lamented.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but… I don't think it's that bad," Remus said thoughtfully, gazing longingly at the bedroom.

"Ew!" Hermione shrieked. "He's my professor!"

"It could have been worse; he could have been facing forward when you came in!"

"Yes and then it would still be disgusting."

"I don't know if I'd use the word 'disgusting'."

"Fine then; disturbing. He's not my Mate; I'll think whatever I think about his nudity." Hermione shuddered. "Is the tea ready yet?"

"Here, have a cup. It's strong, but I figured that would do under the circumstances." Remus handed her the cup and she took it gratefully. Severus emerged then, wearing his usual garb, hardly showing any skin, other than what was necessary. Hermione sighed inwardly; she would never look at him the same way again.

Severus sat in the armchair across from the sofa on which Hermione was perched. There was an awkward silence between them as Remus served more tea. "So, Hermione," Remus began as he sat down next to her, "why were you wandering the halls instead of sitting in class?"

"Well, I haven't been to any classes since before Draco was initiated. I've been studying independently and, with all my free time and curiosity, I've gotten much farther than any of my classes would have taken me, so it's not really important that I continue to attend them now." Hermione said nonchalantly, taking another sip of tea. Remus was right; it was strong.

"Yes, but why not spend time in your rooms?" Remus pressed.

"Well," Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Draco could be there and I'm not sure I can face him after what happened."

"What happened?" Severus inquired forcefully.

"He… He got carried away last night, is all." Hermione said reluctantly.

"Did he…" Severus bit his lip. "What did he do, Hermione?"

"I'm not really comfortable talking about it, Professor," she said evasively.

"Hermione…" the potions master trailed off, a frustrated scowl forming on his face.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Remus asked, moving over to him and kneeling beside the chair.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have let Draco leave."

"You saw Draco last night?" Hermione was confused by her professor's annoyed demeanor. Had she done something?

"Yes," Severus admitted morosely. "He came to me for blood supplements; he was hungry—too hungry. He was angry about something; he didn't tell me what and I didn't have the courage to press him for it." Severus shook his head vigorously. "I shouldn't have let him go to you. I should have made him stay."

"What are you talking about?" Remus wondered. "Why would you want Draco to stay with you?"

Severus stood and began pacing. "He is young, Remus. He doesn't understand his compulsions. His body may send him a sign he can't interpret and he'll do the opposite of what he's actually supposed to." Hermione had never seen her professor so undone. He stopped and looked at her, staring directly into her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Hermione was so lost. "What Draco did was Draco's fault."

"You don't understand, girl! He's a Vampire! Not a human! He's got instincts, but he doesn't know how to read them. When he came to me, his Vampire was so close to the surface; he was hardly contained. I feared for my life, but I should have been thinking of yours. I told him to get out. I gave him the blood supplements, but I didn't watch to make sure he drank them. I didn't watch…" Severus broke their connection, turning his back and putting a hand in his hair. "If he was the same as he was when he left my office, you are lucky to be alive. You could have died and it would have been my fault."

Hermione rose from the couch and went to her professor. "But I didn't die," she said as she laid a consoling hand on his shoulder. He jerked away; not quite comfortable by such display of mutual emotion with anyone other than Remus. Still, his eyes softened at the gesture and Hermione could tell her words made a difference. "I am okay. In fact, you've shown Draco just how much he needs to learn about being a Vampire." Hermione said, trying to make the best of the subject.

"It's not really about learning, it's just gaining experience…" Severus' shoulders slumped a little as he conceded, "but maybe he'll try to control himself a little more."

"Yeah," Hermione murmured with a small smile. "I think I'll go back to my rooms now… I have to face Draco sooner or later."

"Don't be too hard on him," Severus said. "He didn't know any better."

"It's not that I am mad at him; I never was," Hermione explained, "it's just that if I'm near him, I see him the way he was last night." She became quiet then, allowing herself the tiniest of shudders, one that she hoped Severus wouldn't see. He felt badly enough.

"I'm sorry," the Slytherin said again.

"I've never heard you say that before tonight, professor." Hermione remarked thoughtfully. She grinned, "Don't be sorry. Just don't take anymore points away from Gryffindor and we'll call it even."

Severus raised an incredulous eyebrow, "I'm not that sorry."

Hermione laughed and took her leave, saying goodbye to Remus and Severus one last time before steeling herself for a rendezvous with a Vampire.

Hermione's knuckles were red from knotting her hands so forcefully. She stood outside her rooms feeling like her entire body was trying to curl in on itself. One of her nails scraped her palm, her fingers intertwined, flexing and tensing with nervousness. "Are you quite ready to go in yet?" The portrait scoffed. "I can't wait here all day." Hermione looked up in dismay. She had to go in. She had to face him…

"Nulla actio," Hermione hesitated and gulped the softball in her throat, "impunita." The portrait swung open and she stepped inside.

The room was a mess. The pillows from the couch were strewn about, most sporting long claw marks and spewing cotton batting. The pictures on the wall were crooked, if not on the floor; there was broken glass on the floor near one wall and deep claw marks in the wood of the door to the bedroom. Hermione didn't see Draco among the mess and figured he was in the bedroom. She stood, frozen next to the scratched sofa, wondering if she had the strength to see Draco. Fear ate at her like a nest of maggots on decaying flesh, destroying her resolve slowly and surely. Before she could turn back and run from the room, the bedroom doors parted and Draco was standing before her. He was only half there, his Vampire traits on display clearly for her. His eyes were black, his hair aloof, his skin luminescent and his wings—fully extended.

Draco was not the same as when she had first seen him like this on the Quidditch pitch. He was not confident anymore, his posture no longer that of the ram rod straight Malfoy persona, but that of a wounded creature, ready to lash out at the slightest presumed threat. The silence between them was heavy and meaningful. Draco could sense the fear, hesitance, and confusion rolling off of Hermione and his body responded. Her nervousness made him nervous. At last she spoke, "I got your gift."

Draco didn't say anything. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. She knew what he was asking. "I liked it," she said softly. Draco remained silent but took a step towards her. Hermione shivered at the gesture and didn't move away, but she didn't move closer. Her mind was a battleground with her heart telling her to run and her body telling her to let Draco touch her. "Please say something, Draco," Hermione asked desperately.

Draco stared unblinkingly at her. He seemed to be completely taken by the Vampire, but Hermione could tell he was still there somewhere. His wings drooped a bit and he looked at the floor. After what seemed like eternity, she heard his voice. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. There was a small silence again between them.

"Do you fear me?"

Hermione didn't answer right away. At last, her voice barely above a whisper, she responded, "Yes."

Draco was clearly hurt. His wings rose, the tips curving inward as though ready to protect him. "I'm a monster." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn't. She was silent. Draco looked at her again, his eyes swirling silver pools of despair. He took another step towards her. Hermione resisted the urge to back up. He stepped closer, and closer still, and closer still until they were only a hand's length apart.

"…May I kiss you?"

Hermione stared up at him, her face a portrait of worry. "I…" Her brain seemed disconnected from her mouth. Could she let him do that?

"Please?"

Numbly, Hermione nodded, her eyes closing slowly as she steeled herself for what was to come. Draco leaned in, his cheek grazing hers, his scent heavy around her. He let her adjust to the proximity before moving again. His mouth drew near to hers and he paused for a moment; Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding in. Then he kissed her. His lips were soft and questioning against hers, his kiss slow and reverent. It held more than words could express and Hermione was surprised to find she was not afraid. She kissed him back, responding to her Mate, leaning into him with her whole body. It was like the first kiss all over again.

Draco could hear her heart rate increasing, her body relaxing against his as her desire rose. He could feel it in his gut, and further south, like a hungry animal. He deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past Hermione's lips and into the warm cavern of her mouth. She groaned at the contact and responded in kind. Draco could smell the pheromones seeping from her body; he could feel her hands behind his neck, drawing him closer to her. Desire roared up inside of him as the Vampire inside of him demanded its Mate's body. He gripped her tightly and couldn't hold back the feral growl from his throat. Hermione gasped and pulled back slightly, but Draco's hold on her was iron. He didn't understand what was wrong; didn't she want to kiss him? Wasn't she enjoying this? Didn't she start the frenzy? She began to panic, breaking the kiss and struggling. Her hands flew to her neck and she twisted her body away from her Mate. Draco released her immediately, clearly hurt by her actions. Hermione rushed from his arms to the other side of the room, standing against the wall with the broken glass, her chest heaving with deep, frightened breaths.

"What did I do?" The words were soft, hardly audible. Draco's voice was wounded; he didn't even look at Hermione.

"I'm sorry…You….you growled and I…."

"I can't help it." Desperation. "It's part of me."

"I know."

"I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"Just not the Vampire part?"

"No! I mean, I do love that part too, it's just, I—"

"It's just that you're afraid of dying." They fell silent for a moment as Draco's words settled in around them. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't think I could."

"But you did."

"I love you. I wouldn't hurt you, not on purpose."

"But you did."

Draco looked at Hermione, searching her eyes for answers she didn't have yet. He wanted her to love him like she did before. He wanted her to trust him like she did before. He wanted her to see him the way she did before…before he hurt her; before he destroyed her love and her trust and everything she saw in him…but she wouldn't.

"Draco, I—"

"You what?" Draco interrupted Hermione. "You're sorry? You love me? You want things to go back to the way they were?" Draco's tone was harsh and biting. Hermione stared at him, wanting to say yes, but feeling too stupid to even respond.

"**I **love you, Hermione! **I **want things to go back to the way they were! And **I **have to be sorry, every fucking minute, for something I honestly couldn't control! It's part of me, whether I want it or not! I didn't respect it, I didn't accept it, and look where it got me! You can't even stand to be with me and it's my own fault!" Draco's eyes burned through Hermione like hot coals on fresh snow. "And you're saying you're sorry? You're sorry?" Draco was screaming, his hoarse voice cutting her to the core. The Vampire fell to his knees, drawing his wings around himself protectively as he gave in to the terrible sobs that wracked his body. "How could I ever have thought you would love someone like me?" Draco wept. "I'm a monster," he said, his voice a mere whisper.

Fat tears streaked quickly down Hermione's cheeks at Draco's actions. She wanted to go to him, to hold him and comfort him and tell him that he wasn't a monster, that she loved him and that everything would be okay… but she couldn't. She wanted to be with him, to kiss him and laugh with him and to be happy like she was six months ago.

"Just go," Draco murmured in between sobs. Hermione was glued to the spot. She wanted to leave, an entire half of her brain was telling her to just go, to run, to go somewhere safe… but the other half was telling her to go to him, and she couldn't move either way. "What can we do, Draco?"

"I don't know."

"I **do **love you."

"Really? You have a funny way of showing it."

Hermione was hurt, but she knew Draco was right. Actions spoke louder than words and even though she never told him how frightened she really was of him… it showed. With that in mind, she stepped towards him slowly. Her wobbly knees settled on the floor, her heart ready to beat out of her chest. Her shaking hands rose, gathered up her hair and moved it to one side of her face, baring her neck for him. She tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes, preparing for terrible pain and sickening horror.

Draco looked up when he felt Hermione come closer. He watched her kneel before him and offer herself to him. He scrubbed the tears from his eyes and straightened his back, his knees meeting Hermione's on the carpet. She shivered at the contact, but did not shy away. Draco released some of his allure, trying to calm his Mate. Hermione's shoulders tensed at first, but did relax. Draco put a hand on her arm, slowly letting her get used to the feeling of his touch. He placed his other hand on her cheek; she leaned into the touch. He pulled her body close to his, tucking her head under his chin at first. They stayed like that awhile, breathing together, absorbing the feeling of each other.

Hermione moved first, leaning her head to the side and opening up the hollow of her throat to him. Draco lowered his face to her skin, nuzzling the flesh there, inhaling the scent of his Mate. He kissed the skin tenderly, sweetly, taking his time to make her feel comfortable. At last he opened his mouth, extending his fangs and trying to contain the excitement that swelled in him at the realization that he was about to taste his mate's blood again. He paused, his fangs hovering above Hermione's carotid artery before suddenly biting down, trying to make it as quick and painless as possible.

Hermione's eyes snapped open when Draco's fangs pierced her skin and she screamed. Draco pushed out his allure and tried not to let her panic. He did not drink hungrily, but leisurely. He cradled her body and stroked her spine lovingly, calming her steadily. After only a few moments, he retracted his fangs and licked the wound closed.

"Aren't you hungry?" Hermione's voice quavered.

"Yes," Draco admitted, "but I can wait. I know that this is a lot fore you. I'll take blood supplements until you're comfortable again."

"Thank you." Hermione tucked her head back under Draco's chin and sighed happily.

Draco kissed the top of her head. "Do you trust me now?"

Hermione pulled her face back to look at him, "A little." She winced, wishing that she could have just said yes. Draco seemed grateful though and nodded calmly.

"Will you stay here tonight?" Draco asked.

Hermione smiled against his chest. "Yes."

"Are we all made up now?" Draco wondered.

Hermione giggled. "Yes, I think so."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Good; because if you didn't, this would be really awkward."

Hermione laughed and nuzzled Draco's neck with her nose, breathing in his scent. After a moment, she stood and offered her hand to Draco. "Come on, let's go take a nap."

Draco smiled and took her hand, rising next to her and entwining their fingers. "Okay," he said and it was.


	20. Confusion

"Do you know where he is?"

"In class, no doubt, you know how hard Harry's been working for the past few months…"

"No, I don't… but I should."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure why you're here."

"He needs me, I know it. I want to be here for him."

"Why?"

"Well… because… I suppose it's the right thing to do."

"I'm not sure right now is a good time."

"Please, professor?"

"If you can find him, I can't stop you from seeing him. I know you're a good man, Bill. It is getting late, however. If you would like to stay here tonight, there is a room on the third floor that would do well. If you get lost, just ask the portraits for the blue room."

"Thank you, professor."

"You're welcome."

"Good evening, sir."

Bill Weasley found himself checking every classroom he walked by for Harry, asking every passing student if they'd seen him. At last he was informed that he had been in Charms class, but it had just ended. Bill sprinted to the second floor classroom. Lungs burning, chest heaving, Bill threw himself down the stairs and around the corner. His eyes were bright with anticipation, and internal light that changed instantly when they fell upon Harry. He was leaning against the wall, looking up into the eyes of one Lucius Malfoy, who was smiling like a lion getting ready to pounce on its prey.

"Harry," Bill gasped, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger.

"Bill!" Harry exclaimed, his head snapping to the side to see his ex-lover. Harry's lips were red, moist…had they been kissing? Jealousy flared in Bill's stomach.

"Hello," the Weasley intoned dubiously.

"What are you doing here?" Harry stepped away from the wall, moving to stand in front of Lucius.

"I'm here to see you. What are you doing?" Bill countered, eyeing Lucius contemptuously. Lucius raised an eyebrow incredulously, only angering Bill further.

Harry blushed. "I was just talking to my—my friend." Harry stumbled a bit, not quite sure how to label Lucius.

"Can I talk to you?" Bill asked with his jaw clenched.

Harry looked back at Lucius. "Umm," he hesitated.

"I'll talk to you later. I ought to go check on Draco anyway." Lucius looked at Harry's lips, wanting terribly to taste them. He grazed Harry's fingers discreetly, knowing the boy would feel his desire. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry watched Lucius walk away for a few moments, his fingers still burning where he had felt Lucius' desire. At last he turned to Bill. "Why are you here now?"

"Because I wanted to see you."

"No, I mean why are you here _**now**_?" Where were you yesterday or last week or last month?" Harry felt his temper rising and tried to squash the emotion. He didn't want Bill to know how much he'd been hurt.

"I couldn't come before," Bill said simply.

"Well why not!" Harry was trying so hard not to yell.

"Because I didn't know what to say."

"And now you do?"

"Yes."

Harry crossed his arms. "So what do you have to say?"

Bill sighed and took a step forward to close the distance between them, but Harry took a defensive step backward ad the distance was kept. Bill looked at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Harry challenged.

Bill lifted his eyes and looked at Harry who was surprised by the honesty there. "For everything; for saying terrible things just because I was angry, for hurting you, for leaving… for not coming back." Bill paused. "Please give me a chance to make it better, Harry."

"How can I trust you after all this? After all the nights I cried alone, missing you, needing someone and having no one? How can I do that when you left me to deal with the nightmares all on my own? I've been trying so hard to make it by and I'm finally getting to a point where I can feel happy again…" Harry trailed off, not wanting to finish his thought. Not wanting to say that he didn't want to be hurt again…but Bill understood anyway.

"I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm just asking you to let me try and make up for these past months." Bill took a step forward again, but this time Harry didn't move. "I love you, Harry." He took another step to close the distance between them. "I know I didn't show it, but I do. Please, just give me a chance to show you." Bill and Harry were only a hand's breadth apart. Harry could smell him, his cologne; he could feel the nervousness rolling off of him.

"Please say something," Bill murmured while staring at Harry's lips.

"I don't know what to say," Harry responded, shaking his head.

"Can I kiss you?" Bill asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. The distance between them closed in a matter of milliseconds and Bill's lips crashed into Harry's forcefully. The kiss wasn't like what Harry had felt with Lucius; it wasn't tender or careful, it was desperate and sloppy. Harry felt desire, but he didn't know if it was his. Bill's tongue slid into his mouth and Harry didn't push him away. Bill's hands pressed against Harry's waist and Harry wrapped his arms around Bill's neck. His heart clenched in his chest; was this real? Harry felt tears at his eyes, sorrow in his gut mingling with a terrible yearning. Did he want this? He couldn't tell. Was Bill making it better or worse? And if this was hurting him, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Can we go to your room?" Bill asked breathlessly, swiping the tears away from Harry's cheeks.

Harry's mind was a mess; he couldn't think. "I don't know." He hadn't gotten laid in months, but was sex with Bill a good idea? Harry pushed himself away from the Weasley. "I need to think."

"Don't play so hard to get, Harry, I know you felt the same way I did when we kissed."

"Of course I felt it! I feel **you**!" Harry cried. His eyes were flooded with tears that wouldn't stop coming. "I don't know what's mine and what's yours anymore!"

"Well, it can't be bad for you to feel happy, Harry. If I make you feel good, isn't that enough?" Bill reached for Harry again, but the raven-haired boy jerked away.

"NO! It's not enough! It has to be real!"

"How do you know it isn't real?"

"I—I," Harry broke off, turning away from Bill. He couldn't understand anything anymore. "I don't know. Can't you just accept that I'm confused right now?"

"Harry, you love me, I know you do! Why are you fighting it so hard?" Harry stared at Bill, not knowing whether he ought to slap him or kiss him. "We had such good times, Harry, don't you remember? I used to take care of you."

Harry clenched his teeth, remembering exactly what Bill was talking about, but not sure if the times were as good as Bill thought they were. "I don't need to be taken care of, I need to be cared for," Harry said, using his sleeve to absorb some of his tears.

"I do care for you! Please, Harry, I can't take being apart anymore! I need you to be mine again," Bill grabbed Harry, pulling him in. Harry could feel desire, he could feel hurt and concern. Were those his emotions or Bill's? He didn't know. Did those things make love? He didn't know.

"Bill, I—"

"I swear on my brothers, I won't hurt you again Harry. I fucked up, but I want to make up for it. Please let me love you."

Harry sighed, wanting to curl up and die. Maybe he did love Bill… "I don't know. Please, just give me some time to think about all this."

Bill pulled away, holding onto Harry's hand. He placed a kiss on his palm. Harry could feel so many things, but he didn't know if he could actually own any of those emotions for himself. "Think about it, Harry. Until then, I'll be staying on the third floor. If you want to find me, ask the portraits for the blue room." Bill leaned across the divide and kissed Harry one last time before leaving.

Harry stood alone in the corridor for a few moments, paralyzed by despair. What was he going to do?

Hermione stroked a small patch of skin on Draco's chest, admiring the alabaster canvas. "Draco… I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Why not?"

"I want to know what happened to make you lose control. Severus said that you were really angry when you came back to the castle. What happened when you were called?"

The silence between them was heavy and Hermione was worried that she had asked too soon. He wasn't ready to talk about it. "Draco, I'm sorry, we can talk about it later when—"

"No. I need to tell you."

"Oh… okay." Hermione looked up at him. Draco was staring ahead, his face expressionless except for his eyes which seemed to hold oceans of confliction.

"Voldemort knows about you." Draco said at last. "Exactly what I feared happening has happened. He wants me to bring him Harry…" Draco trailed off.

"What if you don't?" Hermione's voice was soft, but serious.

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "He'll kill you."

Hermione pressed herself closer to Draco, burying her face in his chest and wishing that this would all go away. "What are we going to do?"

"**We're** not going to do anything. **I'm** going to make sure that you are always safe." Draco kissed the top of her head lovingly.

"What about Harry?"

"We all knew he would have to face Voldemort one day. He can beat him. I have to believe that. I won't lose you."

Hermione could tell that Draco's mind was made up, so she left the subject there. "I won't lose you either. I love you, Draco Malfoy." She knew, this time when she said it, he believed her.

"I love you too, Hermione Granger." He liked hearing her say his name and he liked saying hers. "Why does something so perfect," he said as he squeezed Hermione tightly, "have to be ruined by fucking mad men?" Hermione could feel the bitterness in Draco's tone. She kissed his neck tenderly.

"Let's do something to take our mind off of it," she suggested. "I want to forget about everything for awhile and just be with you while I still can."

"What would you like to do?" Draco asked, stroking her hair. Hermione smiled.

"Let's go swimming."

"There's no pool in Hogwarts," Draco told her, smiling all the same.

"Are you kidding? There's always something in Hogwarts!" Hermione sat up and straightened her clothes. "Come on, get up!" She urged him as she put on her shoes. Draco shook his head, but got up and put on his shoes.

Hermione dragged Draco through the hallways of Hogwarts, giggling like a small child. They reached the place she was looking for and she stopped abruptly. She smiled and began the familiar ritual of pacing back and forth. At last a door formed before them and Draco smiled too as he realized Hermione had found the only pool that could ever exist in Hogwarts.

When they stepped inside, the floor was warm under their feet. The room was lit by candles; sconces lined the walls and tea lights made a border around the room and around the pool which ran the length of the room. It was a large swimming pool; the bottom of it was black and in the dim light, nothing beneath the water could be seen. It was a simple room for a simple purpose. Draco looked at Hermione and she smiled. "I told you." She turned her back to Draco as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She unbuttoned her skirt and slid it down her legs, stepping out of her shoes afterword. Draco had never seen her like this.

She turned to face him in her bra and panties. Draco held his breath as she reached for her bra strap, pulling it down off her shoulder, and then pulling the other one. She reached behind her back and unsnapped it, then let it fall to the floor. He reached out to her, his fingers skimming her stomach. Her cheeks were flushed; she had never been naked in front of him. Before Draco could pull her close, she turned towards the pool. Her fingers grasped the top of her panties and she pushed them down her legs, tossing them over to the rest of her clothes before stepping into the pool.

Draco tugged at his tie and practically ripped off his shirt, while Hermione swam to the other side of the pool. His pants and shoes were left behind as he made his way to the pool's edge. This was it. He blushed slightly as he fingered the cloth of his boxers… He took a deep breath and pushed them off, kicking them aside. Hermione could see him, his arms and chest and stomach and thighs and the slight arousal that rose between them.

"Come here," she beckoned him, dipping under the warm water and resurfacing just enough so that her eyes were showing. Draco swam over, taking his time. When he reached her, she bounced up and spouted water in his face from her mouth.

"That's disgusting!" Draco exclaimed as Hermione giggled. He dipped under the water then, too, and spat water back in her direction, but she dived out of the way quickly. He ducked underwater then, reaching out to try and catch her, but only skimming her foot. He surfaced and saw her eyes at the other end of the pool. He swam towards her quickly, the distance closed instantly. He put his arms on the sides of the pool, caging her in his arms. "Help me forget, Hermione," he said softly, and then he kissed her. She slid her arms around his neck, the water rippling around them as their bodies pressed against each other's, skin to skin for the first time. Hermione moaned at the contact. She could feel Draco's arousal pressing against her stomach hotly. She rocked her hips, as she kissed him, driving him mad. The water licked at their bodies as they moved with each other, their lips locked in a heat of passion.

Draco broke away as Hermione moved her hips against his hard-on again. "Oh, Merlin, 'Mione, you're driving me crazy."

Hermione kissed his neck and smiled. "Good," she said.

"I think we should stop," Draco said breathlessly.

"So soon?" Hermione pouted and pressed herself into Draco again. He moaned as her left thigh rubbed against his arousal.

"I…I really want this, but I… I want more." Draco was digging his nails into the stone edge of the pool, trying to keep control.

"What if I wanted to give you more?" Hermione kissed his collarbone.

"What?"

"What if I said that I want to be with you…in that way…" Hermione trailed off, blushing.

"'Mione, you have to understand what that means for you—for us," Draco said. "I want to be with you, I want to mate with you… for life. That's important."

"I know," Hermione said. "And if I'm your mate, then we should mate for life…make it official, you know?" She smiled softly. "It's hard for you to control yourself because your Vampire hasn't bonded with me. It's hard for me to trust you because I don't have that bond. I want it… I want you."

"Are you sure?" Draco looked at her seriously.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure. I want you… and what could be more special than this?" Draco smiled, feeling like he was going to burst, and kissed her. She broke away and turned from him, lifting herself out of the pool and sitting on the edge. Draco followed her and they stood together.

"You're beautiful," Draco said, looking at his Mate.

"So are you," Hermione replied, and she kissed him; they were dripping wet and it didn't matter.

A mattress appeared in a dark corner of the room, decorated with soft, plush pillows and a large, inviting comforter. Draco led Hermione to it and laid her down. He covered her body with his own and kissed her face. He kissed her cheeks and her eyes and her forehead and finally her lips. He kissed down her neck and ran his hand across her stomach. His fingers danced down her hips, to the junction of her legs and cupped her moist heat. He paused, looking up at her and she raised her hips to meet his hand, pulling his head back down for a kiss. Draco slid a single digit into her slowly and she moaned into his mouth. He curled it inside of her, touching a spot that made her gasp for breath.

"Oh, Draco, please more," Hermione breathed, pushing back against his hand. He added another finger, going back to that spot to hear her groan. He rubbed his thumb across her clit and around her lips. Draco was so hard, hearing the noises she was making and feeling how wet she was for him. He quickly added a third finger, for good measure, stretching her well. He didn't want it to be painful for her.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked; his breath hot against Hermione's ear.

She nodded vigorously in response, "Yes!" Her hand grasped him and positioned him at her entrance. "Please, Draco, now," she begged, though Draco did not need to be asked.

He guided the head of his cock into her gently, feeling her tight walls stretch around him. His breath shook as he slid himself into her slowly. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and panted into his collarbone. "Fuck, Draco," she gasped when at last, their hips collided and he was fully sheathed inside her. For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. They were frozen in pleasure, as something inside them opened up and washed over them. Hermione leaned up and kissed him tenderly. "I love you," she breathed and shifted her hips, causing Draco to move with her.

Their bodies rocked slowly together in a steady rhythm. Sweat collected on their skin and the air around them became thick with humidity. Hermione put her hands in Draco's hair, threading her fingers through the blond strands and pulling as though she were trying to draw herself even closer to him. He dug his fingers into her hips, holding her as tightly as he could, feeling like he might die if he let go for one second.

Hermione had never felt so full before; it was as though she had been missing a piece her entire life and it was finally back where it belonged. She felt complete and perfect and such ecstasy she couldn't contain it. She moaned as Draco pushed his hips into hers and arched her back. Her pelvis rose to meet his every time automatically. Draco's moans became louder and joined hers in a chorus of pleasure. He was overwhelmed by sensation; he had never known something could feel so…good.

At length, Draco felt like his heart was going to accelerate out of his chest. "I'm close, 'Mione, fuck! I'm so close," he murmured urgently.

"Me too," Hermione groaned.

The words came to Draco naturally; some innate sense from deep within the recesses of his body told him to act and act now. _"__Éilím__ort__mar__maité__mo__shaoil,__mo__shaol__agus ar__mo chuid__fola__. __Vow__I a ghabhann le__freastal__agus__tú__a chosaint__, __a__chaomhnú__agus__meas tú__, __agus__grá__a thabhairt duit__go deo__. __Tá__mé__do__Athbhreithnithe__shaol__._I claim you as my lifemate, my life and my blood. I vow to serve and protect you, to cherish and appreciate you, and to love you forever. I am your lifemate._" _

Instinctively, Draco opened his mouth and bit into the flesh of Hermione's neck. As he drank, he could feel Hermione tensing around him uncontrollably. The pleasure had been too much and she was flying off the edge of sanity and losing herself in an ocean of rapture. Draco could hardly keep his mouth on her; his hips bucking wildly as he felt himself being pulled into climax along with Hermione. He removed his fangs in a rush, as he came with a shout. He licked Hermione's dripping wound to close it and panted as his body tried in vain to return from heaven.

Their hearts raced as they collapsed with each other, their muscles relaxing and their eyes drifting closed. "Wow," Draco murmured. Hermione nuzzled his cheek with her nose and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What?"

"That was…"

"I know." Hermione smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too, 'Mione."

They kissed—a memorable kiss. It was not desperate or rushed or needy or worried or confused. It was a kiss. A kiss made out of pure love and nothing else. They slept together on that mattress in the dim light of the Room of Requirement and forgot about the war. For the first time, and the last, they slept as though Voldemort had never returned.


	21. Intervention

Harry stood in the corridor, wishing he could disappear forever… but he couldn't… And right then, even though Harry wanted to go to his room and cry, he wiped away his tears and headed to his lesson with Snape. His swollen eyes arrived at Severus' door and he knocked politely.

"Come in, Potter," intoned the potions master from inside, "I don't see why you continue to bother banging on my door when I've told you twenty times already to just come in." Harry entered as Severus spoke, remembering to close the door behind him.

"Sorry, professor." Truth was that Harry was a creature of habit and no matter how comfortable Snape may have become with his presence…Harry would always knock—just in case.

"Relax, let's not make it a situation." Severus ladled some of what he was brewing into a tea cup and excused himself, "I'll be just a moment," he said without even looking at Harry. He moved with one goal in mind, taking the tea cup urgently to the bedroom. Harry could hear soft voices and he thought of the low, sweet way that Lucius spoke to him.

The sound of the bedroom door closing snapped Harry out of his trance. "You're late, you know?" Severus mused lightly. "What kept you?"

"I was…" Harry hesitated, "I was being scolded by professor Flitwick after Charms. I came as soon as I could." Harry was lying—rather well by his standards. He had paused at the beginning—a sure sign of nervousness, but it was easily explained by his reluctance to tell the truth about being in trouble.

"For what was he scolding you?" Severus wondered, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I wasn't paying attention; I was doing some History of Magic homework in class." Harry was proud of how well he was lying—he'd never been good at it, but Snape seemed to be believing him.

"You were ten minutes late… Flitwick scolded you for that long?" Severus' brow furrowed. A terrible smirk hid threateningly in the corner of his mouth.

Harry froze. "He had a lot to say."

"Did he?" Severus stared into Harry's eyes and the Gryffindor knew he was caught. "Why don't you tell me what really happened."

Harry examined his shoes. "I'd rather not, sir."

"Why not?" Severus asked calmly.

"I just…can't tell you." Harry said uncomfortably, but Severus did not take it well.

"Why the hell not? What exactly were you doing? Did you have another vision? Are you in danger? You aren't doing anything dangerous, are you? Damn it, Potter! What were you doing?" Severus exclaimed.

"Nothing!" Harry cried, shaking his head and trying to blink away the tears glazing his eyes. "I'm not doing anything bad!"

Severus drew himself to his full height, standing only a couple inches taller than his student. "Do not make me look for myself!" He snarled. "Tell me, now!"

"No! Please!" Harry begged. "Don't! I just… it's personal, professor." Harry was doing a terrible job of holding back his tears.

"If you are putting yourself in harm's way, I need to know! It is my responsibility to keep you safe!" Severus argued.

"Why does everyone say that? I have to face Voldemort in the end, will I be safe then too? Am I ever really safe?" Harry threaded his fingers through his hair. "I feel like a ticking bomb that everyone's trying to keep from exploding before its time." He began to pace.

"You all put me up on this pedestal, acting like you care, but all it does it make me feel like a weapon! But I'm not a weapon—I'm a human fucking being and I have feelings! And even though I can't understand them, I have them!" Harry fell to his knees, disparaged. "Am I mad? Are all my feelings just by-products of everyone else's? Am I really just a weapon?" Harry buried his face in his knees and cried. He cried from frustration that he couldn't lie better, he cried from the embarrassment of letting Snape see him like this, he cried from anger that he couldn't understand himself and he cried from the fear that he truly was all alone.

"Potter—Harry—erm—I—ummm," Severus had no idea how to handle this. He had seen Harry angry and happy and bored and frustrated and tired and afraid… but he had never seen Harry broken. "Harry please stop crying," he said at last.

"I can't!" Harry sobbed.

"Harry… please get up…" Severus searched for something to say, but found nothing. "Let's just forget this and start our lesson," Snape tried.

Harry turned his chin up and Severus regretted what he'd said, but he couldn't take it back. Severus was frozen under Harry's flooded gaze. He should have tried to comfort him, but Severus wasn't sure how.

They stared at each other, frozen, both waiting for the other to move. At last Harry realized Severus was not going to say anything further and that he had just broken down in front of the one person he never wanted to see it. Flooded with embarrassment, Harry moved faster than ever, gathering himself up and sprinting from the room.

Severus stared at the spot where Harry had been. He had been protecting that boy for so long; training him and guiding him. Though he had never said anything, and often acted to the contrary, Severus had grown to care about the boy the same way that Dumbledore cared about him. What kind of person was he to look at a boy and care about him… but not comfort him? Was there no paternal sense in him at all? Severus went back to his room and sat on the edge of the bed next to Remus, staring uncertainly at his fireplace.

Harry couldn't breathe anymore, his nose was too clogged from crying. He didn't want to stop in the middle of the corridor and risk someone passing him, but he was starting to hyperventilate. He needed to stop. He spotted a classroom and sprinted towards it. It was dark inside and Harry took it as a sign that there was no one inside. Harry barged in and tripped over a desk. His hip hit the stone floor painfully and pain radiated up his forearm from the impact on his elbow. Harry curled in on himself, a heap of broken spirit on the floor. He sobbed into his robes, trying to muffle the sound and wondered if he would ever feel whole.

"Harry?" The Gryffindor froze at the voice. "Don't be afraid, my boy," he said, "It's okay to cry." The headmaster cast a lighting charm and knelt next to his student. "What's wrong?"

"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked.

"Severus fire called me and… well, a headmaster has his ways of navigating his castle." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled lightly. "Why are you crying, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer at first, wiping his face on his sleeve. "I just feel so… confused," Harry said at last.

"About your feelings?" Dumbledore asked, though it wasn't really a question.

Harry nodded his head miserably. "How do I tell what I'm feeling from what someone else is feeling around me? It's bad enough just being close to people, but it's worse if I touch them. I can't even hug someone."

"How was your try at Occlumency?" Dumbledore's voice was calm and quiet and it helped Harry.

"You know I'm awful at it. I want so badly to be good at it." Harry grimaced. "What's wrong with me that I can perform spells without my wand, but I can't shield my thoughts and emotions?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Harry, nothing is wrong with you. You're honest; you can't lie."

"So?"

"So you lack the ability to shield your thoughts because you lack the ability to lie. For you, omitting truth is lying. You are honest and that leaves you open. That's why being an Empath is so difficult." Harry was confused by the admiration in Dumbledore's tone.

"What can I do?"

"Harry, you are special. You don't process emotion the same way that others do. You need to shield yourself differently than everyone else."

"How!" Harry exclaimed.

"Come here, my boy." Dumbledore opened his arms. Harry crawled over; a small child going to his grandfather's lap for solace. "It's simpler than you think," Dumbledore gave him a comforting smile. "All you need to do is center yourself. How can you tell one string from another when they're woven into a tapestry? When you center yourself, imagine your emotions as one long multicoloured string. You need to collect it all and make it organized so that you can see each color individually." Dumbledore paused for a moment, giving a handkerchief to his boy. "Some say it works well if you weave it around a series of pegs, others that you should wind it into one big ball. Why don't you try?"

Harry sat up straight and, though nervous about making a fool of himself, closed his eyes in concentration. "Imagine your emotions, Harry. Picture your aura in your mind's eye." Dumbledore advised. Harry tried to clear his mind and concentrated on the feelings running through his body. He could see a knot of multicoloured string stemming from a bright light. "How do I unknot it?" Harry sounded hopeless.

"Pick a colour to start with," Dumbledore said. "Just pick a color and pull the string."

Harry sighed and tried to figure out which colour he should start with. Sorrow, he decided, and a black string was pulled out of the mess. Harry was surprised and the string almost went back, but he caught it just in time. He wasn't sure what he was doing, or how all of this imagining would translate into reality, but he could see the black string leaving the pile and floating up somewhere. It got closer and closer to the light until he saw a row of pegs. He wove the black around the first peg. After awhile, the black turned to violet and Harry could feel love and lust as he wove it around the next peg. Then came indigo and Harry felt cold with fear, then calming blue and jealous green. He went back to the first peg, winging contented yellow around it, then frustrated orange and an angry red. He wove them away neatly so that he could see all the colors individually. "I did it," Harry said, clearly surprised. "I don't understand how, but I did it…"

"It's not supposed to make sense," Dumbledore said wisely. "If feelings were something that we could translate to reason, we'd call them logics." The headmaster smiled proudly. "You're a powerful wizard, Harry, and a powerful empathy. Now I'm going to try something and don't worry if it feels strange; just tell me how it feels." Dumbledore pulled back his sleeves and placed his palm over the back of Harry's hand.

Harry felt pride, a rush of appreciation for someone. He imagined, if he ever had one, this was how he would feel towards his son…but he didn't have a son; and this feeling wasn't his. Harry could tell; it wasn't part of the string of his emotions. He closed his eyes. This was something new. It emanated from a new light source and flowed into him—not from him. "You're proud of me," Harry marveled and then, he felt it.

The light inside of him flared as Harry felt happy—not Dumbledore's happy or a crowd's happy, but his own! "Professor!" He exclaimed. "I'm—I'm happy! I can feel it! I'm happy!"

"Good, Harry. Good." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I've got to be going now. If you ever need, don't be afraid to stop by."

Harry was reminded of all the visits from Dumbledore he'd gotten in the hospital and all the private lessons he'd had over the years he'd spent at Hogwarts. He thought of all the talks, all the advice… "Thank you, professor," he said, though he felt like it wasn't enough.

"You're welcome, Harry," Dumbledore responded.

The headmaster had never had a son, and Harry had never had a father… but as Dumbledore left, neither of them had ever felt more like part of a family.


	22. Leave, Potter

The sunlight crept through the windows of Gryffindor Tower and tickled Harry's face. He rolled over, pulling the covers over his head to escape the morning light. He inhaled the scent of his fresh, cozy linens and sighed, trying to ignore the drone of Ron's snoring and slip back into a perfect, dreamless sleep…but his breath was stale and his mouth was dry and the air under the blanket became humid and hot, so Harry shoved the covers back down again, allowing the sunlight to flood his senses and sting his eyes. Harry groaned and threw his arm over his eyes, trying to get back to that tranquil, wonderful place…but Ron's snoring didn't get softer and the sunlight did not go away and Harry could not get back to sleep, so he sighed and gave up on sleeping in. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and rose reluctantly. His internal clock had gotten used to his grueling routine and he wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep past 6:30 again.

Mornings weren't a trial for Harry; he liked them. He liked the way the sun crawled over the land and illuminated the sky. He liked breakfast—the food, the calmness, starting the day with a great meal…but he wished he could enjoy it more. He wished he could wake up slowly, go to breakfast undressed, savor each bite while enjoying good conversation with a friend, to take his time in the shower—maybe even sing a song… This morning was not like that, however. Just like every other morning, it was rushed. He spent a maximum of five minutes in the shower, threw on his robes, grabbed his bad and headed to breakfast for what would usually be fifteen minutes before he would have to start his lessons. This morning however, was a bit unusual.

Harry entered the Great Hall and gulped, trying to swallow the enormous lump in his throat that appeared at that moment. As Hogwarts was accumulating them lately, visitors ate breakfast early. A couple parents who had lost their homes on death eater attacks and were waiting to be relocated chatted over their plates at the Hufflepuff table. Some Hogsmeade store owners whose buildings and homes had burned in the fires were poring over listings of real estate at the Ravenclaw table. Harry could scarcely remember any of these wizards' names, but there were two others he did recognize very well. Bill Weasley was eating at the Gryffindor table, glaring from afar at Lucius Malfoy who was seated at the Slytherin table. Harry completely froze. Where could he sit? Were he to sit near the other visitors, they would no doubt harass him with their horror stories or ask how he's going to defeat the Dark Lord, but how could he choose between Lucius and Bill without hurting one of them? Harry looked around and, spotting Severus stepping through the teachers' side entrance, rushed over to him.

"Sir," he called quietly. "Where are you sitting?"

"What?" Severus snapped. "Why?"

"Because…" Harry didn't want to tell him the truth, "_because I can't choose between Bill and Lucius." _So he lied, "I thought maybe we could discuss some of the strategies we've been going over."

"Fine." Severus replied curtly and took his usual place at the head table as the only professor there so far. Harry felt odd, sitting next to him, as though he was intruding upon the sanctity of the place. "Well, Potter? What did you want to discuss?" Severus asked, scooping eggs onto his plate.

"Err," Harry scrambled for something, but his mind was blank.

"Articulate as always, aren't we?" Severus sniped. "Why don't we talk about this when you're training in a bit? I'd like to enjoy my breakfast."

Harry looked about and caught Lucius' searching eyes, then quickly looked away. If Bill caught them staring at each other, he would wonder if Harry was interested in Lucius… wasn't he? Harry flicked the hair out of his eyes only to have his gaze connect with Bill's. He stood abruptly, looking at the floor. If Lucius saw him looking, he would wonder if Harry was interested in Bill… was he?

"Sorry, professor, I'll see you in your classroom."

"Have you eaten?" Severus was surprised that he was actually concerned about Harry.

"No," Harry said, trying to find a place to look that wasn't awkward, "but I'm not hungry." The Gryffindor excused himself and walked hurriedly out of the Great Hall.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked Draco as they got ready for breakfast.

"About what?" Draco called back from the bathroom.

She sat at the vanity, her red and gold silk robe slipping off her body as she drew her hair back and piled it on top of her head in a quick bun. "About Harry," she replied, applying some powder to her face.

"What about him?" Draco evaded her question.

"Stop being coy, you know what I'm talking about. You have less than a month before Voldemort expects Harry."

Draco came out of the bathroom, toweling the last bit of shaving cream off his chin and neck. "I know. I'm going to ask Dumbledore about it. He'll know what to do."

Hermione stood and crossed to Draco, wrapping her arms around his middle. "What if he doesn't?"

"I'm sure he can keep us safe. We'll wait it out here and when Voldemort calls, I'll have to go to him. My father will be there. So will Severus. They'll help me get out of there while you stay protected here; I can do it." Draco kissed the top of her head and held her soft body tightly.

"I'm not sure I can let you do that, Draco, I love you too much—"

Draco cut her off, "No, Hermione. If I don't go, he'll come after you. I can't bear that thought. Promise me you'll do the right thing," Draco asked.

Hermione closed her eyes against the threat of tears. She took a deep breath to control herself. "I promise," she said without a tear in her eye. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Harry, let's take a break," Severus said.

"What?" Harry asked breathlessly. "But we've only just started."

"You're distracted. We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Are you all right, Harry?" Severus wondered.

"I'm fine," Harry said.

"You weren't fine last night."

"I thought we'd just forget about that." Harry looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't want to. I want to make sure you're all right." Severus cleared his throat, feeling awkward, trying to stay loose and failing; he was stiff as a board.

"Why do you care?" Harry murmured. Severus did not miss the bitterness that was hidden in his question.

"I've been training with you for the past year and…" Severus coughed, trying to mask his embarrassing concern, "ever since Remus came into my life… I've spent time with you both and I've realized some things."

"Like what?"

"You're more like Lily than anyone bothers to notice." Severus said quietly. He wasn't good at this, it made him feel strange and scared. Still, Harry was important. So he continued, "People look at you and they see your father—**I **saw your father. There's not much of him in you though. Not as far as I knew him." Severus made a face. He didn't want to say more. This was more emotion than he'd ever shown to Harry.

"So?" Harry asked when Severus stopped. "Why does that change things?"

"Because," Severus struggled for non-committal words. "Because I'm different. And you're different. And I don't hate you."

"Doesn't mean you like me." Harry was pushing Severus. He couldn't believe Severus had mustered the courage to actually talk about this, but it wasn't enough.

"I do!" Severus exclaimed, cursing himself for his temporary loss of control. "It's just that I've been teaching you and helping you to learn and because of that I f—I well, I… I consider you to be a ….well a… a somewhat familial figure."

Harry was stunned. "I don't know what to say."

"You still haven't answered my question." Severus reminded him.

"What question?"

"Are you all right?" Severus stared at Harry, trying to draw out the truth.

"I…" Harry shook his head. "I don't really know. I'm not as messed up as I was last night, but I'm still really confused." Harry admitted.

"About what?" Severus prodded.

"I don't want to say."

"Why not?"

"It's… it involves people you know and I wouldn't want you to think less of them." Harry said hesitantly.

"Why would I think less of them?"

"Because of things they've done…"

"With you?"

"Well, I mean… I'm not… It's… Can we just not talk about it?"

"Harry, you're not going to win a war with this kind of emotional turmoil going on. Just tell me what's going on. You may not realize, but I am older and have more experience than you—even with love. I might actually be able to," Severus wanted to swallow the word, "help."

"It's…" Harry wrought his hands, knotting his fingers with nervousness.

"What?"

"Well…"

"Yes?"

"Umm…"

"Would you just be out with it!" Severus practically shouted.

"IT'S LUCIUS!" Harry blurted, his eyes going wide as he realized what he'd admitted to.

"Lucius?" Severus shock was clear as day.

"And Bill," Harry admitted.

"You're fooling around with two men?" Severus exclaimed.

"No!" Harry shook his head. "Well… not exactly."

"Merlin, Harry, what do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know what I'm doing, that's the problem! I was starting to think that maybe I really liked Lucius, but then Bill came back, and I think I really like him too… but I can't really tell if I like them, or if I just feel them liking me and think that it's me liking them when I don't." Harry collapsed into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands.

"I…" Severus looked around. He had no idea what to say to Harry. The situation was so confusing and he hardly had an idea how to handle one man let alone two. Why did he think he could advise Harry? "I think you should talk to them."

"And say what, exactly?" Harry groaned.

"Well…Erm… Remus and I talk about… things…I don't know really."

"You're a great help, professor."

"I thought it was worth a try."

"Yeah well, it wasn't."

"It's not like you were doing great work anyway."

"Well forgive me if it's hard to concentrate on training when I'm worried about finally finding someone to love me right as I am about to die!" Harry snapped.

Severus was silent. He didn't have words for Harry. He wanted so much to be close to the boy, the way that Remus was; things would be easier that way… but he wasn't. Too much had happened. Too many insults had been flung, too many detentions, too many jabs, so many things to keep them apart. Severus sighed. "I think you should leave."

"No, I'll pull myself together and we'll train. I can do this." Harry stood and straightened his robes.

"Well I'm not asking you to." Severus said. "I'm not asking you to train with me, I'm not asking you to let me help you, I'm not asking you to save the world right now, I'm asking you to leave."

"But…" Harry paused, "why?"

Severus ran a hand through his hair. "Because… Because I care about you finding someone to love you before you…" He didn't want to finish the sentence. "I don't think you're going to die. I think we're going to win this war… but it is a war, and bad things do happen… We all deserve as much happiness as we can get before the end." Harry just stared at Severus. The potions master would not look at him. "Leave, Potter. You have business to attend to."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He merely picked up his school bag, pocketed his wand and turned to the door. He looked back at Severus before he left, wondering if things between them could have been different…If things between them would ever be different…But right now, there was still too much there, and so he opened the door and left, leaving all the things he couldn't say hanging in the air behind him.


	23. A Conclusion and an Introduction

Harry rounded the corner away from Charms and History of Magic classes, looking for a room he hadn't known existed. He wondered why he had never used the Marauder's Map to explore the castle more thoroughly, but then recalled fondly how he had only had time for any place he found Draco Malfoy. Looking from the outside in, Harry could imagine a great number of rooms he'd never seen or visited. This was simply the first of many.

"Excuse me," Harry said to a portrait of a man reading. "Can you tell me where the blue room is?"

"Behind the tapestry of Morgana, at the end of the corridor."

"Thank you." They nodded to each other and Harry continued on his way. His palms were sweaty and his heart was racing with nervousness. Half of him wanted to face Bill and the other half wanted him to run away. Still… he forced himself to keep moving. When he reached the tapestry, he realized he had no idea how to get into the room. He looked at the tapestry for movement, to see if a password should be given, but couldn't be sure. He moved it aside and touched the wall behind it hesitantly. Nothing happened. It was a regular tapestry and a regular wall. Harry's brows knitted together. He hadn't anticipated this. Feeling awkward and silly, Harry did the only thing he could think of—he knocked. Just as he was getting ready to sprint back to his dorm, a door formed and it opened.

"Harry!" Bill smiled warmly.

"Hey, Bill."

"You came!"

"Yeah. I figured…we needed to talk." Harry observed his shoe.

"Yeah, 'course, come in." Bill stepped aside and ushered Harry in.

"A lot's happened since you left," Harry said nervously as he stood an awkward three or four steps inside the room.

"You got a new jewel in your lip stud," Bill said as he reached out a hand as if to caress it, but then thought better of the gesture and dropped his hand.

"Yeah, Lucius said the garnet would compliment…" Harry trailed off, suddenly embarrassed to be talking about Lucius so off-handedly.

"Well he has good taste," Bill said, but there was a harsh tone to his voice that made Harry acutely aware of how Bill felt about the tall blond.

"Umm…" Harry shifted his weight, looking around uncertainly. "I'm not really sure why I'm here."

Bill approached him, smiling softly. "I think I know," he said, making Harry's stomach churn with unease.

"Why?" Harry asked, though he didn't know what he was asking. It meant too many things.

"Because you missed me," Bill said. "I missed you too."

Harry shifted his weight, feeling awkward as Bill became closer and closer. He took a step backward in an attempt to keep a comfortable distance between them. Bill didn't miss the step backward and frowned. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Well, I did at first…but…" Harry's brows knitted together. "Bill, you didn't just step out to the corner market! You've been gone for months! You stormed out of my life, making it abundantly clear that you found me completely unsatisfactory. What did you expect me to do? Collapse and die without you? I moved on! I went to classes, I quit smoking, I made new friends! And now you're back and I don't even know whether I want to slap you or…" Harry didn't finish.

"But I thought you still loved me…" Bill said somewhat pitifully. "I felt it when we kissed."

"I was a mess when we kissed! Couldn't you see that?" Harry scoffed. "How can you feel love between us, but not any of the other emotions I was pushing out and reflecting back from myself?"

Bill stepped forward again, reaching out desperately. "Because maybe love is all there is!"

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief; Bill really didn't get it. Advancing on Bill, Harry growled, "You are so thick sometimes!" He grabbed Bill's shoulders and asked, "Is this the only way to get through to you?" and Harry jerked Bill down towards him and kissed him roughly.

Harry felt Bill's confusion and reflected it between them. He felt love, but it was Bill's and Harry sent it back to him. Then Harry pushed all of it asunder and summoned his own emotions and pushed them into Bill. A bond formed between them, through which Bill could feel betrayal, sadness, confusion, anger, frustration and then…something new: self confidence. Harry was surprised by this, not realizing what exactly what was coming out of him. Happiness came through, then excitement, desire, lust and before Bill knew it, Harry had pulled away and was breathing heavily on the other side of the room.

"What was that?" Bill asked. "It was…different. Like, I could tell the difference between your feelings and my own…" Bill hesitated before asking quietly, "Those weren't all for me, were they?"

Harry turned to Bill, his eyes still alight from channeling his emotion. "No."

Bill sighed. "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"But you don't love me."

"No."

"Who was all that," Bill searched for a word, "_wanting, _for?" Harry looked down, touching his fingers to the small smile gracing his lips. He didn't speak, but Bill knew already. "I'm happy for you, Harry," Bill said. "I think I'll go home tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "You don't have to leave."

"I don't belong here anymore. Don't worry, we'll see each other again, but right now I think there's someone else you'll want to go see."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Bill," he said softly before turning and exiting, going out in search of a tall, handsome blond.

Lucius was sitting in an overstuffed chair by the fire, enjoying a nice, dry potions book, when the portrait to his rooms swung open suddenly and Harry Potter stepped in. "Harry!" Lucius exclaimed, dropping his book to his lap. "Don't you have a lesson with Severus right now?" He asked, checking the grandfather clock standing to the far left.

Harry ignored the question and strolled across the room with purpose, stopping in front of where Lucius was seated. "I've just realized something—just now," Harry stumbled nervously over his words.

"Do you need to talk about it? You can tell me anything, Harry, you know that," Lucius said comfortingly, setting his book on the end table next to him and uncrossing his legs.

"It's not something I can tell you, exactly…" Harry gulped. "I mean I could try I guess, but it's not very easy and," Harry began pacing with anxiety, "even though I'm still not sure what I'm doing when I do what I have to do for you, I'm still hopeful that it'll work and you'll—"

"Harry, what is it?" Lucius interrupted him. He stood then, looking down into Harry's emerald eyes. "Just show me."

Harry looked up at Lucius in surprise, as though he'd forgotten he was there. "Don't freak out, ok?" He took a deep breath, focusing on keeping everything inside in order. When he felt perfectly in control, he took Lucius' hand and held it for a moment. He wanted so badly to kiss the man, but he had done so with Bill just to shut him up and didn't want that vibe to be carried over. Deciding on something less intimate, but more meaningful, Harry pressed his palm flat against Lucius' and smiled, allowing a bond to form between them and slowly pushing his emotions out through it. Their hands grew warm as they felt happiness and comfort; Harry's heart raced as he sent Lucius excitement and a blush crept from his cheeks to his neck as desire went through. He concentrated on their fingertips, not wanting to see Lucius' expression, worried about what he might be thinking. Then, very briefly before pulling away, Harry let his last emotion through and dropped his hand.

There was a heavy silence between them after Harry pulled away. Harry examined the threads of the carpet, too frightened of Lucius' possible reaction to meet his gaze. He hoped Lucius felt the same way after the few months they'd spent together—eating lunch, watching Draco heal, talking about family and friends and…well, everything. Every precious moment he had stolen to be with Lucius had been filled with happiness. Surely, Lucius had been happy too? Surely it wasn't just a physical attraction… Harry was starting to worry when he felt a hand underneath his chin as Lucius guided his face up towards his own.

"You love me?" He asked softly, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Harry nodded sheepishly, unsure if Lucius was afraid or excited. Lucius' eyes darted all about Harry's face, examining his features with awe before settling on his lips. Harry felt his chest swell, unable to breathe under Lucius' gaze.

"Lucius, I—" Harry was cut off as the older man crashed his lips down and kissed Harry. They had kissed before, but this time, things were different. This time, Lucius was not careful and cautious; he was wild with broken resolve. This kiss made every other seem chaste. Lucius' arms encircled Harry's waist tightly, pulling him in against his hard frame. Harry gave a soft whimper that drove Lucius' desire to new heights. Lucius pushed his tongue past Harry's lips and into his mouth, exploring it thoroughly and reveling in the perfection of it. Harry groaned softly and threaded his fingers through Lucius' hair, pulling gently on it, trying to bring them closer together. Harry felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he began to wonder if oxygen could be more important than Lucius' mouth. The older man dug his fingers into Harry's robes and saved Harry the trouble of deciding. He pulled away minutely, just enough to allow enough space for air to flow between them. They gasped lungfuls of air, breathing hard against each other.

"I don't deserve you," Lucius murmured.

"Why not? You're wonderful," Harry said, caressing Lucius' cheekbone. The blond leaned into the touch, but his brows were knit in frustration and there were frown lines by his mouth.

"I'm old," Lucius said sadly. Harry had never seen him so unguarded and open before.

"No you're not! You're just older than me. Age is about more than when you were born. There are still so many things you don't know, so many things for you to discover. In some ways, you're still a child," Harry said softly, "and in some ways, I'm an old man."

"I'm not as good looking as I used to be; I don't have the same energy. You deserve someone—"

"Lucius, you're stunning," Harry cut him off. "Even if no one else thought so, I would still think you were sex on legs!"

"How can you possibly desire me? Why do you love me?"

Harry sighed and rested his head against Lucius' chest, just under his chin. "Because you make me feel the most _me. _With you, I'm never The Boy-Who-Lived, I'm never The Chosen One, and I'm not even Harry Potter…I'm just Harry. You're the only person who gives me real happiness—the kind of happy that comes from inside, not from someone else."

"You make me feel young," Lucius said softly.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Harry admitted.

"I find you to be the most handsome man I've ever met."

"I don't care that you used to be a Death Eater. To me, the fact that you're willing to put your life on the line by being a spy completely makes up for it."

"I've never thought you were pompous, I simply envied your life and resented how much I wanted to like you, but never could."

All the things that they had wanted to say before came tumbling out. Before, there was a permanent line drawn between what they were comfortable sharing and what they were not, but that line had evaporated with three little words and now there was so much to be said. There were no more secrets. After awhile, Harry had to return to his classes, but he made sure to give Lucius a long kiss before leaving.

"Can I come back tonight? Just for dinner…and maybe a cuddle?" the Gryffindor asked excitedly.

"I'm not sure Malfoys are allowed to cuddle, Mr. Potter," Lucius joked. "Don't you have homework you should do instead?"

"Fuck homework. I'm going to have to fight Voldemort—no amount of homework will matter then. What will matter is you. I want to enjoy having you as a part of my life for as long as I can in case…" Harry trailed off, neither wanting nor needing to say more.

"I'll be expecting you, then," Lucius replied simply. They kissed and then Harry was off, both of their minds firmly concentrated on each other.


	24. Assessing Deadlines

"Harry!" Draco called down the corridor. He had been hoping to catch him at lunch, but he hadn't seen him. They had advanced potions together, though, so Draco was determined to catch the boy before class. He would have missed him, had it not been for his wild mane of hair Harry could have shuffled past Draco just like all the other students.

Harry sidestepped the crowd and joined Draco at the side of the entrance. "Yeah?"

"I have to talk to you about something…about the last time the Dark Lord summoned me."

"I'm not mad at you for what happened to Hermione, I know it was beyond your control." Harry said dismissively.

"That's not it," Draco said glumly. 'The Dark Lord gave me an assignment. I'm supposed to… well, I have to deliver you to him by the end of this month."

"Oh." Harry's eyes bulged. "That's…soon."

"Yeah." Draco agreed, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "If I don't do it, he'll… He knows about 'Mione…he'll kill her." Draco's throat constricted and he inaled deeply through his nose, trying to control himself.

"I understand, Draco."

"Normally, I wouldn't ask you to do this. I've spent the last two weeks trying to think of an alternative, but I can't risk waiting anymore and I can't risk lying. It's Hermione..." Draco paused and bit his lip in an attempt to rein in some of his emotions. "I need her."

"It's ok, Draco," Harry said, placing a hand on his arm. "I was prepared for something like this…Well, maybe not like this, but I always knew I'd have to face him." Harry patted Draco's arm awkwardly, and gave a weak half-smile. Then he turned and walked away from Draco and away from potions class.

"Hey, where are you going?" Draco asked confusedly.

"Well, if I only have a week before I have to face Voldemort, there are some things I need to do." Harry offered no further explanation, he simply turned away and continued quickly to some other destination.

Lucius had just settled back down to reading when Harry burst into his rooms. "I'M GOING TO DIE, WE NEED TO HAVE SEX RIGHT NOW," he shouted.

"Excuse me?" The blond exclaimed. He immediately set his book aside and rose, moving by Harry to close the door as the young Gryffindor panted for breath.

"Draco—he's got a mission—I'm facing him—I'm gunna die—I just can't die before we get to be together!" Harry cried.

"Did you run all the way here?" Lucius asked, completely ignoring Harry's demands for sex. He closed the distance between them, gripping Harry by the waist.

"No—well, yes, part of the way," Harry admitted, but shook his head, "are you listening to me?"

"Yes," Lucius said simply, brushing hair away from Harry's forehead.

"Well?" Harry prompted him.

Lucius chuckled softly. "I'm not going to have sex with you, Harry."

"What? Why? I mean, why not?" Harry asked sadly.

"Because it would be wrong."

"But I thought we were over that—I mean you said you loved me, sort of, well I guess you didn't say it, but….I thought you wanted this." Harry searched Lucius' eyes frantically for the emotion he had seen only moments before.

"I do," Lucius conceded. "But not like this. I don't want to have sex with you, rushing to 'get it done' before you…" Lucius cut himself off abruptly, unable to say the words aloud. "You mean more to me than that. I want to make love to you, to make you feel safe and wonderful. I don't want things to happen between us just because of the war—I want it to be real. Of course I want to make love to you, but we shouldn't. We only just got everything on the table between us. I know we've been fooling around a bit, but now things are different… After today's lunch, I mean…you know me, Harry. Right now is just too soon, it wouldn't be meaningful enough—it wouldn't be special enough for you."

"But it would be special," Harry insisted, "because it would be with you."

"There are other ways for me to show you my affection than by carting you away and keeping you hidden in my bedroom."

"That sounds really good though," Harry gulped, "Voldemort would never find me there."

"You never know," Lucius said, "he might send Nagini to slither under our sheets while we are asleep…"

"Our?" Harry repeated incredulously. Lucius' cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

"I misspoke; it was simply something I've imagined so many times…"

"What do you imagine?" Harry wondered, pressing his cheek to Lucius' chest and inhaling his scent.

Lucius sighed contentedly and pushed his fingers through Harry's hair, enjoying the way harry melted into him. "I imagine that we're together and no one cares. I imagine that you're all mine." Lucius kissed the top of Harry's head.

"That could be real…" Harry said quietly, but really he feared it never would be.

"Harry I…I really care about you."

"I care about you too."

"I don't want to see you hurt…and that's just it, I hurt people. I could hurt you."

"But you won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what love is, Lucius; giving someone your heart and trusting them to keep it safe."

"If only I could keep you safe."

"I know…and things are just going to get worse. I'm… I'll have to face him soon."

"I wish I could go in your place."

"But you can't." There was a heavy silence between them as the severity of their situation pressed on them. "Be with me tonight, Lucius. Please? Not because I'm probably going to die soon, not because you feel bad for me and not because you miss having someone to be with…be with me because I'm asking you to—because I love you."

Lucius leaned his head down to brush his lips over Harry's. "I love you too," he paused, then reluctantly said, "but it's too soon. This isn't how successful relationships are built."

"According to whom!?" Harry exploded, pushing away from Lucius.

"We've been meeting in secret for weeks now—I can't stop kissing you and now I'm here telling you that I love you and it's still too soon?"

"People…they will…they don't…" Lucius struggled for words that would sound as important as they felt.

"Fuck _people_, Lucius—I don't want to be with _people_, I want to be with you. In the end, I want to leave this world knowing that even for one night we were free to love each other. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't make love—one reason that applies to me, the man you love—not the boy who may or may not die in a few days."

Lucius looked at Harry, examining his wild hair, his strong chin and his emerald eyes, alight with passion. He couldn't find any reason to hold back. "Are you sure about this?"

Harry sighed exasperatedly and walked back to Lucius, throwing his arms around his neck. "How's this for sure?" he asked and then he kissed Lucius with all the longing he could summon.

At length, they parted, gasping for breath. "Point taken," Lucius said and steered Harry towards his bedroom.

_We need to talk. _Draco scrawled onto a bit of parchment and slid it over to Hermione. She glanced down and her brows knitted together with worry.

**What about?**

_My assignment._

Hermione read the note with surprising calm. To anyone else, it would seem that they were passing frivolous notes-nothing of meaning. Still, Draco could tell by the way that she pursed her lips and by the way that her heart sped ever so slightly that she was unnerved by the subject.

**Now? **

_It can wait. I've got to talk to Dumbledore about it first, but I'll bring it up tonight when I get home._

**Home? **Hermione scribbled back with a small smile.

_Our room, I mean. _Draco noted offhandedly, keeping a perfectly neutral expression.

**Ok. **Hermione wrote back, but Draco felt that she meant much more.

There were things between them that could simply no longer be expressed in words. So much of their communication had progressed to a purely emotional level and they were quite adept at reading each other's emotions. Often, Draco felt that there was an undertone of some emotion to Hermione's words that made them mean entirely different things than they would on their own. He mused that their bond was strengthening them very quickly and that maybe he would be powerful enough to stand up to the Dark Lord when the time came. He already knew that he would have to-he would do anything to protect Hermione; without her, he would surely die.

Draco leaned over in his chair and nuzzled her neck affectionately. She swatted him away, putting on her best "I'm-trying-to-pay-attention!" face, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. He smiled at her and breathed in her scent, absent mindedly rubbing one of his hands over her back. His movements were subtle and nonchalant-he hardly even moved to touch her. Still, Hermione felt his tenderness and fought the urge to kiss him for the rest of the class.

"What are we waiting for?" Snape asked irritably. "You called me here claiming urgency simply for Draco to tell me he's got to complete his mission? Really, Albus, I have more important matters to attend to."

"Dying to get back to your wolf?" Draco sneered, earning a death glare from Snape. "Relax. I want to get back to Hermione too, but this is important."

"If it's so important, tell me what I need to know and let me be on my way!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat softly. "We are waiting for the others, Severus. Harry is presumably on his way, I-"

"Late as usual," Snape scoffed.

"And Mr. Malfoy answered my fire call moments ago saying-"

"I'm here! Sorry I'm late!" Harry apologized as he stumbled away from the gargoyle with Lucius entering graciously behind him. Both were somewhat disheveled, though Harry much more so than Lucius. Severus raised an eyebrow in curiosity and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly while Draco didn't seem to find anything odd about their appearance together.

"So," Harry coughed, "what's the urgent business?"

"We've got to figure out a way for me to complete my mission and still live," Draco said, unable to mask the frustration in his voice.

"What?" Harry asked, looking about. His eyes looked like he was somewhere else completely, he was strangely cheerful. "Why am I here then?"

Draco bit back a rude comment and replied, "Because my mission is to deliver you to your death, remember?"

"Oh-right...that." Harry's face fell as he spoke, his eyes losing their cheerful sparkle as he recalled his situation.

"Yes, that." Draco said flatly.

"Well, I'm prepared to go willingly," Harry said simply, his voice once again tinged with trouble.

"There's more to it than that I'm afraid." Dumbledore began, "You see, that only gets you into Voldemort's presence-we need to make sure that you are prepared for what could happen after that."

"Ok, so what are we looking at?" Harry asked, plopping down into an overstuffed chair next to Draco in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Draco will take you to Voldemort, you'll most likely have to pass by several Death Eaters on the way, some of which may try to hurt you..."

"I've been trained to throw off a Cruciatus, if I need to," Harry said as though it were the most natural ability. Lucius stood in the back corner of the room, but he sensed Harry's resignation and it made his heart heavy. He wanted to reach out, close the distance between them, sit with him and make him forget...

"Yes and once you're presented, I'm sure that the entire inner circle will be present, if not his entire following. Severus will be there to aid you if a battle begins, but he can do nothing to jeopardize his position unless you are in grave danger." Albus looked to the potions master, "You will have several potions with you that night, won't you, Severus?"

"Of course, Albus. What do you think I should prepare?" Severus sounded oddly accommodating...Harry tried not to read too much into that.

"We'll talk about that later. Now, Harry, I will give Draco a portkey to carry with him-as it will be safer with him; he is less likely to be searched. If you should need to get back to Hogwarts quickly, it should work when apparition may be prohibited by wards. I will urge you not to engage the Dark Lord, but try to escape. If you do, Draco may be punished, but you both have a better chance of survival."

"I-" Harry started, but cut himself off. He wondered why Dumbledore wanted to postpone the fight that only he and Voldemort could have, why he was urging Harry to run away when he would have to face death eventually...but he didn't bother objecting. "Yes, professor."

"None of us can know what is going to happen, but we must all be prepared for the worst. Lucius," Dumbledore sighed, "I'm sure you will do everything to make sure that those close to you remain well."

"Of course."

"I think you should also arm yourself heavily, just in case something goes wrong."

Lucius nodded in agreement. "Is that... everything?"

Dumbledore looked around at each of the men in the room, his brows furrowing when he looked at Harry and Draco. "I think so. Unfortunately, there isn't anything else we can do. As much as I would like to plan a serious operation, this is going to happen on Voldemort's territory and so we have very little control over what may transpire."

"Yeah," Harry murmured. "I guess we'll just prepare ourselves for anything." Draco hummed in agreement.

"I uhh... I have until the end of this month... so I figure..." Draco looked at Harry somberly. "Meet you at midnight in the Great Hall? Morning of the twenty-eighth?"

"It's a date." Harry's mouth turned up at the corner, but it wasn't really a smile.

"I suggest you all go spend time with your loved ones for now," Dumbledore said.

Harry rose and Lucius took his hand to go, wanting to whisk him away to his bed and put all of this death business out of his head. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, somewhat horrified. Harry and Lucius looked back at Draco, realizing how they'd just inadvertently outed themselves.

"Uhh..." Harry said loquaciously.

"That's an interesting development," said Severus, clearly amused. "I see you resolved your...inner conflict."

"WHat?! What inner conflict? What developments? What is going on?" Draco began shouting.

"Look, Draco, we didn't plan for this to happen," Harry said, blushing furiously.

"Didn't plan for what to happen?"

"Draco," Lucius began awkwardly, "I know this must be strange for you, but it was strange for us too, at first."

"US? US!?...AT FIRST? UGH, how long have you been-been-whatever you've been doing?!"

"Well..." Harry reddened, "ummm..."

"UGH THAT'S SO DISGUSTING I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW!" Draco cut him off. "Father, he's my age. Literally, he is in my year at school. And you're my FATHER. I MEAN. THIS. THIS IS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS IS."

"I'm well aware of Harry's age, Draco," Lucius said firmly, getting angry. "Now I can understand how this is difficult for you to come to terms with, but that's because you're young and you're still maturing. That's the difference between you and Harry."

"Ugh you call him Harry!" Draco moaned. "How can you do this? How can you go from my mother to...to... him!?"

Lucius' face flushed with anger so clearly, Harry thought he would strike Draco...but then his shoulders slumped in defeat and he looked down at his shoes. "I loved your mother very much, Draco... but after she was killed, I had very few people to turn to... Harry cares about me. And...I care about him. I know that must bother you, but I didn't choose this... it just...happened."

Draco grimaced, "Can't you make it unhappen?"

Harry stepped towards Draco. "Please, try to be open," he said. Draco moved backward, but Harry caught him by the elbow, placing his palm firmly on the blond's shoulder. He let Draco feel his love and his caring for Lucius, his uncontrollable passion, though he held back the torrent of lust. When he pulled away, Draco's face was still sour. "Do you get it now?"

"Yeah," Draco mumbled, "but I still think it's gross."

"But you know we're not going to stop being together..." Lucius intoned.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Ugh this is so..." Draco shivered. "Ok fine I get it but... ugh I can't be in the room with you two right now. It's just... Yeah I'm gunna go to be with Hermione." Draco turned and left in a blur of speed.

Harry turned to Lucius and gave him a small, hopeful smile. "Come on...Let's go." They turned to Severus and Dumbledore, exchanging farewell nods, and left arm in arm.


End file.
